


The Warmth We Share

by SmutKnight



Category: Original Work
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal, Anal Fingering, Aphrodisiacs, Ass Play, Ass to Mouth, Az'kel, Bimonthly Updates, Biting, Black Panties, Blow Jobs, Breasts, Budding Love, Choking, Come Eating, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Cultural Differences, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, Discovery, Exploration, F/M, Face-Fucking, Face-Sitting, Fantasy, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Flirting, Forehead Kisses, French Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Gentle Sex, Gentleness, Grinding, Hair Braiding, Handholding, Horns, Interactive, Kink Exploration, Kissing, Lace Panties, Leglock, Maid uniform, Maids, Missionary Position, Monster-girls, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Mystery, Neck Kissing, Nectar, Nipple Play, Panties, Passion, Passionate Sex, Praise Kink, Realistic, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, Sweet, Tails, Thighs, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, maid outfit, pussy juice, saliva
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 88,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22309639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmutKnight/pseuds/SmutKnight
Summary: A woodsman stumbles across a slave caravan, and just can't bring himself to leave the curious horned woman caged at the mercy of her captors. This unlikely hero finds himself undertaking an epic journey south to get his cold-blooded partner out of the frozen north.An interactive novel with bimonthly installments, to vote for what the pair do next, check out my twitter! https://twitter.com/SmutKnight
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	1. The Girl In The Cage

The howling wind did little to muffle the dull crack of hatchet against wood, nor the steadily escalating altercation happening somewhere beyond the thicket. Henry lowered his axe, shaking the snow from his shoulders as he listened out for confirmation. Sure enough, there were raised voices carried on the wind, a herald of hostilities occurring on the path just behind. Henry raised his axe once more, eyes fixated on the knotted trunk before him. It was rare to meet another person when traversing these lanes, even rarer given the brewing blizzard and fading daylight. Whatever disagreement was taking place was surely no concern of his, however. He braced himself, lifting the tool once more, ready to chip away at the splintered gash in the tree trunk. With gritted teeth he steeled himself, a flickering flame-like feeling in his chest, the symptom of a change of heart. He lowered the axe once more, turning towards the path as he begrudgingly trudged through the snow towards the shouting. 

  
  


Making his way through shin deep snow was tiring enough, let alone with the day’s fishing hall strapped to his waist. Four large fish from the lake nearby, and he would have filled his knapsack with firewood had he not been rudely interrupted. He held the hatchet just under the head, using his free hand to move the limbs of the conifer trees out of the way as he continued towards the path. He scrunched his face up, second guessing whether or not he should get involved. He’d lived his life just fine so far by keeping to himself, why start getting involved in other people’s bothersome nonsense now? He sighed, shaking his head. No, it was getting dark and it would be bitterly cold, if these folks were lost then the least he could do was point them in the right direction of the village. Probably just some folks from the south who took the wrong branch down at the crossroads.

  
  


As he breached the treeline onto the path, indeed it did seem the party were lost. Just in front of him were two sturdy looking horses, harnessed to a large hardwood carriage. Henry had little time to study the craftsmanship of the wagon, however, as the cacophony of shouts to his right drew his attention. Keeping to the treeline, hesitant to step out onto the dirt track dusted with snow, he moved steadily past the wagon as the owners came into view. Three men in thick burgundy tail coats stood facing away from him, looking at something just out of view. One of the men held a smoldering lantern above his head, revealing just below the elbow, the white sleeves of their jackets. Henry grimaced. They were slavers. 

  
  


From just behind the wagon, something heavy was thrown to the ground at the men’s feet. Henry squinted at it, trying to make out it’s shape in the dim light, retreating backwards into the treeline slightly. 

  
  


“ _If this stupid bitch won’t keep her fuckin’ coat on, the cold’s going to do her in, and then fuckin’ Clint’s going to do_ **_us_ ** _in”_ One of the men shouted out in frustration, lifting the thrown coat off of the ground and aggressively shaking the snow off of it. 

  
  


“ _Oh come off it, if you hadn’t have got us fucking lost in the first place we’d have made it to Lampveller by now. We’d have got the fucking job done, we’d have been able to put our fucking feet up, hell maybe he’d have even let us have a go at the broad! But_ **_no_ ** _…”_ The second man complained, rubbing his leather gloved hands together as he stomped the steadily collecting snow from his boots. His comment caused a commotion from whatever was behind the wagon, an aggressive crack like rock against metal, followed by a sinister hissing sound. Henry tilted his head slightly. He knew he should go, fuck the firewood and the slavers, he shouldn’t get involved in other people’s affairs. Especially not the affairs of such deplorable ‘businessmen’. He spat into the snow, wondering which lord in town was so low as to do business with slavers. Regardless, if he left now there’d be just enough daylight to make it safely back to town, even without firewood. 

  
  


“ _Fuckin’ arrowheads are all the same. what’s wrong love? Haven’t got the sense to know how to stay warm? Or are you just too fucking stubborn to do as you’re_ **_fucking_ ** _told”_ The third man bellowed, stepping forward with the lantern held high over his head. Henry stopped, looking over his shoulder at the men on the road. That flickering fire-like resolve he hated springing to life in his chest once more, that tug of empathy that caused him to turn around and creep back along the tree line, moving past the cart and behind the men. _Arrowhead?_ He thought to himself, cursing his curiosity and gripping his axe tight as he stepped silently past the wagon. 

  
  


His eyes widened as the cage on wheels came into view; a barbaric looking holding cell attached to the back of the horse drawn carriage. There, stood with defiance in her eyes despite her trembling and shivering frame, was an Az’kel. Henry stared in disbelief. Az’kel were creatures of the south that he had only heard of from rumours told by intoxicated travellers trying to woo northern barmaids. You’d be forgiven for mistaking her for a human woman, were it not for the black basalt like abnormalities adorning her feminine body. Horns, dark as night, protruded from her head. Smooth as glass and as long as Henry’s forearm, their intimidating size gave her an intimidating aura despite being over a foot shorter than himself. 

  
  


A great black mass shifted behind her, lashing out and striking the bars in agitation. Henry’s jaw dropped. She had a tail, too. It was as thick as her torso, extending out of her lower back. It was covered in what looked like thick overlapping armoured plates, with an arrow head shaped tip that glistened in the setting sun. By the sound it made as it collided with the bars of her prison, Henry guessed it was heavy and dull like a well worn axe head. Henry held his own in a white-knuckled grip as he watched on silently from amongst the trees.

The man holding the thick albeit ragged looking coat approached the bars, aggressively throwing the garment towards her. It landed at her feet, and her tail whipped back and forth along the bars in a frenzy of sparks and frustration. The man bearing the lantern stepped forward, holding tight to the bars, illuminating the woman within. Despite the blisteringly cold winter winds and the heavy crystalline snowflakes that swept through the cage unimpeded, her clothing was minimal. A ragged dirty bandage fastened around her breasts and some tattered rags that had more in common with swiss cheese than they did with functional shorts. Henry felt cold just to look at her, thankful for his own thick fur jacket. The wind blew fiercely, causing tremors and shaking to rise throughout her body. With gritted teeth and shaky legs, she kicked the coat along the dirty floor of the cage back at the men. 

  
  


“ _Stupid bitch won’t let us start up a fire without snuffing it out, won’t wear her damn coat. Fucking hells she won’t make it to Lampveller._ **_Especially_ ** _if we don’t figure out how the fuck to get there_ **_real fucking soon_ ** _”_ The lantern-bearer barked, turning and shoving the man beside him to the ground who was bent down to retrieve the coat. He fell to his side, stumbling indignantly to his feet as he dusted himself off.

  
  


“ **_You_ ** _got us a shoddy map!_ **_You_ ** _can’t even get a woman half your size to wear a damn coat! I don’t remember Clint putting your cowardly ass in charge in the first place!”_ The man bellowed back, his fists clenched and back straightened, tensions clearly flying high between the group. The lantern-bearer took a step towards him, the kind of remorseless glare upon his face one might expect from someone about to lose precious cargo to incompetence. The third man stepped between them both, his head down as he held the men at arm’s reach.

  
  


“ _Calm it with ya! Both of ya! You keep flapping your gums like that and Clint will have our hides for his fucking door mat.”_ Interjected the more level headed of the men, shoving them both away from one another. Henry’s eyes however were firmly upon the captured woman, who’s tan skin seemed to grow more pale by the moment, her trembling more violent. If they didn’t do something soon, she didn’t look like she was going to make it. He studied her hateful expression, a glimmer of fear visible as she struggled to maintain her scowl throughout her shivering. He felt his heart thump in his chest, anxiety tying his stomach into knots as the weight of his hatchet seemed to triple in his hands. If he didn’t do something soon, she wasn’t going to make it. Henry crouched down amongst the conifer branches as two of the men turned and walked to the side of the carriage, leaving the man with the lantern stood alone, studying the Az’kel.

  
  


“ _Look, go in the back and look at the map again. We passed a few crossroads not far back, I’d wager my cut that we took a wrong turn somewhere there. That bloke at the inn said it weren’t but half a days ride north and we’re well past that now. Besides, with how shitty this track is, ain’t no way there’s a town at the end of this trail.”_ He instructed, his surprisingly accurate observations going unnoticed by Henry who was hidden just a few feet away, unable to take his eyes off the suffering woman. 

His colleague waved him off as he flung open the heavy carriage doors, stepping inside as he cursed aloud and began rummaging for the parchment. Pleased with his mediation skills, the man wandered briskly back to the cage. The man raised the lantern as his companion returned, spitting with frustration to the side as he watched the exotic woman struggle to even stand.

  
  


“ _So what in the hells do you suggest we do about her then? We can’t exactly put her in the carriage without her trying to escape or destroying the damn thing with that bludgeon of hers. Lampveller could be just up the fuckin’ road and she’d be dead before we ever saw it’s lights.”_ The man practically spat, the angry almost desperate tone of voice betraying his resentment of the uncooperative captive. Another defiant hiss escaped the woman’s lips, though noticeably less intense than the last time. Her trembling lips no longer having the energy to muster a scowl, her eyes seemingly struggling to stay open. Henry could stand the sight of the woman’s waning willpower no longer. His heart beat in his ears like the ancient drums of some long dormant war machine, the thunderous pulse spurring him forward. He stepped onto the snow-dusted cobbles of the track, holding his axe in a vice like grip against his chest. 

  
  


“ _How about we warm her up ourselves?”_ The lantern carrier declared, a troubling change to his cadence more akin to excitement than anger. His colleague looked at him, a confused look upon his face. The woman hissed once more, using one arm to grip the bars to help her stay up right, the other crossed shakily across her stomach. 

“ _Well”_ The man continued. “ _That’s why these Az’kel women are so popular up north. You get ‘em cold enough and it takes the fight right out of ‘em, soon enough they’ll do_ **_anything_ ** _for a little body heat. The tricky part is making sure they don’t freeze to death before the fun can start”_ He concluded smugly, an inkling of pride in his voice that made Henry’s stomach turn. He crept forward slowly, adjusting the axe in his hands, his numb fingers clamped tight against it’s rough wood handle. _Disgusting. Vile. Unforgivable._ These were the only words that crossed his mind, his seething hatred for these unapologetic monsters fuelling the rage that pumped like fire through his veins.

  
  


“ _What are you thinking then, wait until her legs give out then you and me keep her warm long enough to get to that damned town?”_ The other shot back eagerly, eyeing the trembling woman’s curves. There came no hiss of resistance from the woman. She was leaning hard against the bars opposite them, struggling to keep her eyes open. Her knees began to buckle, struggling with all her might to stay on her feet. 

  
  


“ _Well would you look at that, looks like the little arrow’s not got much fight left after all. Tell you what, you stand on her tail and hold her by the horns, I’ll spread her legs nice and wi-_ ** _NGHH_** _”_ The man was cut short, courtesy of the axe head embedded in his back, forcing all air from his lungs. He was forced forwards, colliding heavily with the bars of the cage. The Az’kel’s eyes widened in shock as she watched the slaver splutter crimson onto the snow below. For a moment the lantern-bearer looked at his companion with confusion, unable to comprehend what had happened. He turned slightly and now noticed the snow-dusted man stood behind them both, desperately trying to wrench the axe out of his friend’s back. 

  
  


Blood pounded in his ears. He tugged and pried but the axe was stuck firm, wrenched out of his gloved hands as the slave trader slumped to the side taking the axe with him. Henry whipped his head around towards the other trader, just in time to catch sight of the lantern mid-swing towards his face. The heavy metal implement collided viciously with his head, the glass shattering noisily into shards that tore at his cheek. Henry was staggered by the blow, slipping down on to his side as the dusting of fresh snow that had once aided his stealth now hindered his balance. He grunted, his right eye closed tight as blood trickled down from the lacerations spanning from his eyebrow to his chin. His vision blurred slightly, whether from the adrenaline or the impact, he couldn’t tell. He looked up to the slaver, his mouth open in shock and his startled eyes searched the area for further assailants. The slaver’s lips moved, though no sound other than a deafening high pitched ringing registered in Henry’s ears. _Come on. Pp damn you. Get up._ Henry pleaded with himself, the world spinning slightly as he scrambled to his feet.

  
  


The woodsman got to his feet, his fists raised, a steady trickle of blood from his face onto the ground below. He couldn’t wait for the third to show up, he had to act fast, he had to get her out. With a guttural roar that rumbled in his chest, he charged the slaver. His ferocity caused the man to hesitate, swinging his improvised bludgeon but a moment too late, colliding pathetically against his chest as the man collided at a full sprint into his. With a low centre of mass, driving his shoulder upwards into the man’s ribs, Henry lifted him briefly off of his feet as he was dashed against the cage. The jail cell itself lifted slightly from the impact, threatening to topple the weak Az’kel’s balance. Henry’s feet slid across the cobbled as he strained to keep the man pinned against the bars. The slaver groaned and cursed, his shouts for help finally audible as the whine in Henry’s head began to fade. The woodsman gritted his teeth and winced as the lantern was struck against his back repeatedly, his rapid desperate thoughts racing from retrieving the axe, attempting to disarm him, or escaping entirely. 

  
  


He grimaced as the heavy metal frame clobbered his back once more. He flung his arm out and luckily managed to catch his forearm mid-swing, halting the rain of blows. Bellowing once more, struggling against the taller man’s strength, he forced his arm back against the cage. The impact caused the slaver’s grip to loosen, the lantern falling to the floor where it leaked oil onto the settling snow. Sensing his advantage, Henry adjusted his stance and clamped his forearm up beneath his chin and pressed down hard against his throat. With his free hand he began a flurry of blows, brutally pummeling his head against the rigid bars behind. Half a dozen ruthless impacts from the enraged man’s fist was enough to stop the cruel man’s resistance. His arms fell limp to his side as he slumped forward against Henry. He ceased his blows, struggling for breath as his bruised ribs fought to suck in the frigid arctic air. He stepped backwards to allow the body to fall to the floor. Exhausted and battered, he stood shaking slightly from the adrenaline. He looked from the two unmoving bodies to the woman in the cage. No longer able to support herself, she was on her knees knelt against the bars, her grip waning as her hand slid steadily down towards the floor. Her heavy eyelids fought to stay open, just long enough for him to notice she was looking to his side, not to him. 

  
  


Henry flinched, whipping round and lifting his arm in reactionary defence as the third slaver came into view. Henry felt a sharp pain in his forearm, looking with confusion at the bloodied shaft that not protruded from the sleeve of his heavy fur coat. He lowered his arm slightly, revealing the crossbow bolt protruding from the other side, and the panicked slaver just behind that stood beside the cart. He fumbled with crossbow in his hands, cursing loudly as his trembling hands fumbled and dropped the bolt he was trying to load to the floor. Henry hesitated, gripping his arm as he looked fearfully to the armed combatant. He willed himself to move, but his legs stuck still, as if frozen firm to the floor. _I need to go now, before he’s loaded. What if he loads again? How badly am I hurt? Why can’t I move? Move damn you._ **_Move damn you._ **

  
  


He wrestled air into his lungs, his heart beating fiercely in his chest, his legs carrying him forward. He began to close the distance, stampeding towards the arbelist. His heavy boots impacting the stone roadway below echoed out against the surrounding trees, accompanied by the panicked shouts of the slaver as he struggled to load his weapon. The bowstring clicked into place just as Henry bore down on him, about to barrel shoulder first into him. The bolt was loosed. Henry closed his eyes as his momentum sent the slaver flying backwards, his head hitting the cobbled road with a sickening crack, the crossbow splintering into pieces. Henry fell beside him, losing his footing from the impact. He rolled over, gasping as he noticed the bolt protruding from his side. He gripped it instinctively, but was surprised to feel no pain. Tracing the shaft with his fingers, he was relieved to find it merely embedded in the lining of his coat, the slaver having shot wide in his panic.

  
  


Henry lay there for a moment, his chest rising and falling hard as the cuts and bruises he had received began to be felt by his sore body. He panted hoarsely as he looked to his side, the unmoving body of the third slaver beside him. He began to recover from his fight or flight response, the adrenaline waning as the fog began to clear from his mind. With shaking hands, he touched the bolt stuck through his arm. It hurt to move, but he was relieved to find it had merely grazed his skin rather than shot straight through. A dull clatter from behind the cart brought him back to the urgency of the situation. He sat up with a groan of pain, getting to his feet as he hurried to the cage. The imprisoned woman was laid down on her side, her frame shuddering and her eyes closed, he chest scarcely moving as shallow breaths escaped her lips.

  
  


“ _No no no, hold on!”_ Henry cried out in desperation and frustration, getting to his knees as he searched the men for the keys to the cage. As he rolled one of the men over, he spotted the large metallic keyring affixed to his waistband, and roughly wrenched the keys free. His hands shook violently as he looked at her limp body laid before him, fumbling to get the key into the lock. After a few precious moments, the lock clunked open, and the heavy door swung free. Wasting no time, the woodsman removed his coat, roughly snapping the bolts free from the fabric as he draped the thick fur garment across her body. He bent down, scooping the woman up in his arms, surprised by her weight as her armour plated tail hung heavily down against the filthy cage floor. Even in his urgency, he couldn’t help but notice the dents and chips littering the bars all around the cage. Carefully, minding not to hit her horns against the bars, he carried her out of the cage onto the snowy path. A strong gust howled through the trees, causing him to shiver as it cut straight through his comparatively thin top. He stepped over the slaver’s bodies, the now open cage door banging loudly as it was blown about behind them. 

  
  


He trudged around the cart, the soft orange glow coming from the open carriage door signalling a haven from the frigid blizzard. Stabs of pain shot through his injured arm, his bruised back straining with the effort as he bundled her inside the wagon. The fairly spacious interior was lined with furs and fabrics, two wide pillowed seats on either side of the carriage with a black cast iron fireplace between the two, opposite the door. Despite his pain, Henry couldn’t help but grimace in disgust at the decadence the men had been travelling in while they forced her to remain in such abysmal living conditions fully exposed to the elements. He laid her gently down on one of the seats, her entire body able to lie with room to spare even despite her large horns. Her tail hung limply from the seat, curled slightly on the ground in front of the fireplace. Henry knelt down in front of the heater, watching as the small flame dwindled, threatening to be snuffed out entirely. Searching the carriage, he spotted a small stack of firewood just under the furnace, and carefully stacked them up allowing the flame to roar back to life. 

  
  


Henry sat on the floor next to her tail for a moment, panting from the stress and exertion, his head bubbling and swimming with thoughts. He had just killed three men. Slave traders, scum who stole not just the lives but the dignity of men and women alike, but men nonetheless. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking of their bodies that lay slumped unmoving outside, steadily being covered in snow. _No, I mustn’t think that way_ . He reasoned, looking to his side at the weakened woman who lay unconscious, her breathing less shallow than before as warmth returned to her. _I’ve_ **_saved_ ** _a life._

  
  


A pop from the fireplace drew Henry back to the real world, gazing at the growing flame. Although the logs had taken well, he knew unless he got more firewood soon the flame would die out within the hour.There were no more logs left under the heater, and his eyes widened as he remembered where his axe was currently. _Shit._ He stood up, another wave of nausea washing over him as he realised he needed to deal with the bodies. While it was true this road was seldom used, after all it only lead to a few crumbling stone ruins, the chances of hunters and ice fisherman using it was too high to chance leaving them visible. He put his hand against the wall of the carriage, supporting himself as he cursed again under his breath. He went to hold his head in his hands but yelped involuntarily as his fingers met his lacerated face. He bent down to look at his reflection in the glass of the fireplace, studying the cuts he had sustained. 

  
  


The right side of his face was slightly swollen, the bruising already beginning to show, with several small horizontal gashes from the broken glass. Though they stung to touch and bled slightly, thankfully none of them looked very deep. As a hot wetness dripped along his wrist and down to his fingertip, Henry reluctantly began rolling up his sleeve to inspect his forearm. Just as he had suspected, the bolt had grazed his arm leaving a nasty looking gouge that leaked crimson. Henry got to his feet and searched a wooden shelf above the resting woman, relieved to find a flask. He took a small swig, and sure enough it was full of whiskey. He took a much larger swig, before stepping out into the cold, making sure to shut the door behind him. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fist as he doused his arm in the liquid to clean it. He poured some into his hand and rubbed it aggressively against the wounds on his face, cursing aloud at how bad it hurt. 

  
  


Closing the flask back up, he surveyed the carnage properly, looking up and down the trail for any signs of life. The wind had picked up, and with it came large flakes of snow, the sun dipping below the mountains to the north. He doubted anyone would be taking the road in these conditions, but even so he needed to move the bodies out of sight. He grimaced at the axe still jutting from one of the men, and reluctantly he put his foot against his back to help to wrench it free. He cleaned the bloodsoaked head against the snow, before leaning the tool against the carriage, thinking of how best to move them. He jumped slightly as the door of the cage banged shut once more in the wind. Perhaps that would do. After all, if he wanted to move this woman anywhere he couldn’t very well have the cage attached to the back. Lifting the axe above his head, he brought it down heavily destroying the chain attaching the cell to the wagon. 

  
  


Fortunately the cell itself was light enough to push by hand, and with great effort Henry was able to shunt the prison on wheels off of the lane and into the treeline. He stepped back onto the road, satisfied that it was adequately hidden from view. He bit his lip as he turned his attention back to the bodies. He couldn’t very well bury them, even if he had a shovel he’d freeze to death long before he was able to break through the frozen ground. He also couldn’t in good conscience leave them out in the open at the mercy of whatever predatory beast happened to catch their scent first. He scratched his head, wincing slightly as he accidentally touched a cut. From beyond the treeline, he heard the cage door slam shut in the wind, giving him his solution. Though the effort of lifting them hurt his bruised body, one by one he loaded the men into the cage. He shut the door, locking it and leaving the key in the lock. Were he not starting to shiver he might have considered their final resting place to be rather poetic. Instead, he shook his head sadly, rubbing his arms with his hands as he made his way back to the carriage. 

  
  


He kicked the crimson stained snow off of the road, wanting to leave as little trace of the skirmish as possible. Making his way around to the front of the carriage, he studied the two horses cautiously. Indeed, they were breed native to these northern lands, and due to their thick furry coat he had no doubt they’d be fine left without shelter. Climbing atop the driver’s seat, he untied them from their reigns and instead tied them around a tree a little ways off of the path to let them stretch their legs and get comfortable. They were nervous around him, but as soon as he discovered the sack half full with apples tucked down next to the seat, he soon won them around with a tasty evening snack. He smiled at the two gentle giants, patting one appreciatively on the side, before heading back onto the road and stomped his feet clear of snow before quickly entering the warmth of the carriage. 

  
  
  


He closed the door behind him quietly, silencing the whistling winds outside, leaving only the steady crackling of the fire. He looked down at the strange woman, who lay motionless across the seat. To say she was beautiful felt like an understatement, her soft caramel skin looked as soft as silk. There was a prominent vertical scar that started at the corner of her mouth and extended down to her chin. He wondered if this was an injury caused by the slavers. Though her eyes were closed, he could vividly remember her piercing emerald green eyes, the likes of which he’d never seen. Her hair was strangely silver, tied back in a large messy braid. He’d seen silver hair before, sure, but only among elders. It was her horns that captivated him the most. Though they seemed intimidating at first glance, he realised they were actually rather blunt at the top, the smooth material a shiny black that reminded him of volcanic glass. He wanted to reach out and touch them, but such a brief of privacy was not in his nature. He adjusted his coat that lay atop her like a blanket, pulling it up to her shoulders. Though she was shorter than he was, her legs were still largely uncovered by the coat. He glanced down at them, but feeling his cheeks flush red, he looked away. The poor woman’s shorts did little to conceal her modesty, ending just as her thighs began. 

  
  


He decided there must be a blanket or something he could cover her properly with, and turned to face the seat on the opposite side of the coach. He nudged it upwards slightly, and sure enough there was under-seat storage. Just as he lifted the cushioned seat, he heard something scrape behind him. He turned, raising an eyebrow in confusion. The woman’s eyes were still shut tight, but her tail had moved slightly. The heavy black weight on the end of her tail looked as if it were made of obsidian, knacked and carved into a crude arrowhead. _No wonder they use arrow as an insult_ He thought, noting it’s striking similarity, even if it were more akin to the size of an arrowhead a giant might use. Satisfied that she was still sound asleep, he turned his attention back to the storage unit. Indeed, there were a few blankets and items of clothing bundled up together. Much to his delight, there was also a few waterskins, dried meats, and a few curious vegetables he couldn’t identify-

  
  


**_Scrape_ **

  
  


Henry flinched, feeling something heavy pressing firmly against the base of his neck. He dared not move, the cushioned lid of the storage space falling back into place as a seat once more. 

  
  


“ _Sit down. Slow.”_ The feminine voice called out from behind him, a curious foreign tone to her voice. Henry did as she said, slowly turning himself around, keeping his arms deadly still so as to not provoke her. As he turned, the Az’kel came into view sat up with gritted teeth, fists clenched. Henry gulped as the tip of her monstrously sized tail pressed firmly against his throat. It wasn’t sharp, but he had seen the damage she had done to the cage with her tail, and the thought of having his throat crushed was much more terrifying than having it cut. He lowered himself backwards into a sitting position, the tip of her tail following him down as he moved.

  
  


“ _Slaver?”_ She asked impatiently, here eyes flicking from Henry to the door. 

  
  


“ _N-no, I’m a tree feller, a uh, a lumberjack. I cut down trees.”_ He explained dumbly, hoping that with every word the intimidating angry look would leave her face. It did not. Her teeth were bared, and only now that he was close to her did he notice they were sharp and pointed like a wolf’s. Her eyes moved up and down his body, her tail pressing harder against his throat, searching him for weapons. 

  
  


“ _Why? Why did you kill them? Who are you?”_ She asked accusingly, a slight hiss to her voice. Henry noticed her expression slip slightly as her eyes moved to the fish tied to his waste, a look of hunger and vulnerability in her eyes before they continued to stare daggers at him. 

  
  


“ _I’m Henry. Henry Embers, I live in Lampveller, the town nearby. Where the slave tra- uh… the men were taking you.”_ He began, the pressure against his throat increasing as he mentioned the slavers, immediately regretting his decision to do so. He continued, his voice strained by her tail. 

  
  
  


“ _I’d finished fishing and I hear a commotion and… I saw them and I s-saw you and I was going to leave because It’s not my business but”_ He paused, noting the confusion in her eyes. “ _I-I couldn’t. That isn’t right, what they were doing. I saw you throw the coat away, you were trying to… well I saw what you’d prefer to being in that cage.”_ He continued solemnly, having never seen someone so willing to end their life like she had been, the thought tugging at his heartstrings. “ _I had to do something. I had to help you.”_ He concluded, slowly lowering his hands down onto his lap. The Az’kel moved her tail away from his throat, hovering nearby as a looming threat just incase she need it. Henry rubbed at his throat thankfully, coughing lightly.

  
  


“ _You killed three men for me, to h-help Azrielle, for what? What do you want with Azrielle?”_ She questioned, a small joly in her voice betraying the mixture of emotions that lay beneath her stern threatening surface.

  
  


“ _Azrielle.”_ Henry repeated to himself, never having heard such a name before. “ _I don’t want anything with you. I want to help you, help you get back home. I don’t know where that is but I-”_ Henry began, pausing as the woman opposite burst into tears. Her tail fell to the ground, curling round at her feet as her body shook with sobs. Henry felt his heart melt, the familiar misery akin to that of his grieving mother or widow. Her whole body trembled as she cried out loudly and unrestrained. This poor woman had been enslaved, taken from her home, dragged halfway across the world. Henry figured she must have been robbed of every last shred of hope, why else would she have tried to kill herself in the cold rather than get to her destination. She must be exhausted in every possible sense of the word, and overwhelmed by her sudden liberation. The cruelty his fellow man had done to her sickened him, and for a brief moment a flash of anger clouded his mind. 

  
  


Her sobs brought him back, and seeing the scarcely clothed woman sat opposite him, he wanted nothing more than to comfort her. Slowly, he got to his feet. He raised his hands and kept his palms facing her just in case she mistook his movements as being threatening. He lowered himself hesitantly on the seat next to her. He didn’t even know if she had noticed him, her weeping so intense she could scarcely see for the tears. He reached out, gently placing his hand atop hers. She flinched, her tail raised slightly, her body rigid as she her cries were cut short. He kept his hand there, his eyes closed firmly, certain he was about to be bludgeoned to death. Instead, he was surprised to find her slowly turn her hand, gripping his tenderly. Her wails and whimpers continued as tears streamed down her face, albeit quieter than before, as she held his hand. After a few moments she had leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder, her horns next to his head. Her cries had begun to die down, recovering from the emotional exhaustion, as she sniffled her way back to composure once more. 

  
  


“ _Thank you.”_ She whispered quietly, squeezing his hand slightly. In that moment Henry knew he’d made the right decision. He knew that he would do everything he could to try to get this woman home. Even if he didn’t know where ‘home’ was for such a creature. He let her rest against him for a few more minutes, thankful to sit still himself as his ribs and back ached dully. 

  
  


“ _So, where uh… where is home for you, Azrielle?”_ The woodsman asked, prompting Azrielle to sit up straight, though she did not let go of his hand. 

  
  


“ _Vastreshi forest”_ She answered cheerfully, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes as she smiled slightly at the man beside her. Henry frowned, having never heard of such a place. _A forest? I thought they lived in deserts?_

  
  


“ _Well I don’t know where that is really, do you know how to…”_ His eyes brightened with realisation, remembering that there was the map under the seat opposite. “ _You can point it out to me on the map, let me go grab it”_ He announced cheerfully, wincing slightly as he got to his feet. The Az’kel looked up at him curiously, her grasp on his hand lingering for a few moments, before letting go and fiddling her fingers together nervously in her lap. She smiled sweetly up at him, and though he fought the urge, he found his eyes wander down for a split second to her breasts. No longer covered by his coat, he could see they were bound tightly beneath mucky bandages. He coughed, trying to cover the blush returning to his cheeks, as he quickly opened up the opposite seat and retrieved the map. 

  
  


Sitting back down, he studied the map, Azrielle looking curiously at the parchment with equal parts fascination and confusion. “ _Map”_ She repeated quietly, having wondered what it was her captors had been referring to during her journey. Henry scanned the page, stabbing his finger excitedly just to the north east of Lampveller.

  
  


“ _So this is where we are currently”_ Henry explained, struggling to spot any woodland to the south named anything remotely close to ‘Vastreshi forest’. He glanced at Azrielle, who had her tongue between her lips in concentration as she studied the paper. He nudged Henry’s hand out of the way, which was covering the very bottom of the map. She pointed delicately to a large patch of sand and nothingness, just west of a small clump of three mountains labelled ‘Crimson peaks’. 

  
  


“ _That’s where you’re from? You’re sure?”_ Henry asked hesitantly, noting no trees whatsoever for hundreds of miles around the mountains. Azrielle nodded confidently, tapping her finger against the map once more. 

  
  


“ _Home is there, yes.”_ She reiterated, looking affirmatively at Henry. Henry’s eyes moved up the map, his heart sinking at the distance between their current location and the scorching sands hundreds of miles south. If she was right about that being her home, it would take them months to get there travelling in this. His heart sank further as he looked at the exotic smiling beauty. She had been kept like an animal in that cage for **months**. 

  
  


“ _...Ok. It will take us a long time to get there, but I’ll get you there.”_ Henry concluded, his heart missing a beat as he realised the journey there and back would take him almost an entire year to complete. _Am I really doing this?_ Doubt beset him. He had no family here anymore, sure. But that didn’t mean he could just happily uproot and take to the road for months upon months. Surely there was someone he could send her to, someone who could help. He frowned, the wind whistling faintly through the trees outside. It was winter now, it would be too cold for her outside anywhere north of the desert. She wouldn’t be able to go out and get firewood, drive the carriage, hunt for food. And besides that, the people of the north have never seen an Az’kel before, he didn’t doubt they might kill her for being a demon of some kind. He frowned, rubbing the wound on his arm lightly. There was someone who could help. It was him.

  
  


Azrielle was visibly excited, her tail shuddering and shimmering, her armoured scales producing a loud pleasant rattling sound. Henry couldn’t help but laugh slightly, caught off guard by such a peculiar reaction. He guessed it was a sign of happiness, due to the large grin upon her pretty face. Her once teary eyes seemed to brighten instantly at the promise of helping her to return home. She grabbed his arm, causing him to flinch.

  
  


“ _We shall travel together?”_ She asked eagerly, studying his bruised albeit cheerful face. He nodded, looking down at her, still barely able to open his swollen eye. She seemed to be puzzling over something, her eyes not subtle at all in moving across his body. He felt incredibly self conscious. As a lumberjack, he was fairly muscular as one had to be to haul logs around all day. However he wasn’t exactly the most handsome man on the planet, and he doubted the injury to his face helped matters. Besides trade and small talk, Henry had little experience with women. Whether that was due to his slightly isolationist lifestyle, his height being a little under average, or there just being better looking lads in the town, women had never shown much interest in him. 

  
  


“ _Uh, yeah, I’ll take you there, like I said.”_ He replied shyly, a little confused by her sudden intenseness. He winced as she moved, blushing heavily as she straddled him, facing towards him. His eyes widened, his cheeks flushed crimson as her eyes were locked firmly against his. She batted her eyelashes rapidly, her tail rattling slightly as it curled its way behind him, encircling them both.

  
  


“ _You are a fearsome warrior. You kill three vicious men to free this Azrielle. Save her from the bitter air. If we are to travel, Azrielle wants to travel as_ **_oovatyal_ ** _.”_ The curious woman spoke, a disarming sultry lilt to her voice, her tail shimmering and rattling as she awaited his response. Henry felt his cheeks burning hot, excitement igniting beneath the fabric of his trousers, even if he didn’t know what she was suggesting her intensity was enough to arouse him.

  
  


“ _I d-don’t know what that means, sorry”_ He admitted, flustered and stumbling over his words, a little intimidated by her powerful tail surrounding them both. She laughed slightly, a delightful joyous sound that was almost melodic, before looking to the side and narrowing her eyes in thought. She was seemingly lost deep in thought for a moment or so, before a smirk returned to her face as she batted her lashes at him once more.

  
  


“ _Partners”_ She cooed, her eyes moving down his broad chest, back up to his rugged albeit bloodied face. Henry felt his cheeks burning fiercely. _Surely she didn’t mean, like, lovers? She’d only just met him after all. She must meen as companions or something similar. Yeah, that must be it._ He thought, struggling to hold her gaze.

  
  


“ _Sure, we can be oovat… uh… oovatyerl? Yal? Partners, we can be partners._ ” He remarked awkwardly, her tail a cacophony of shimmering black scales as the rhythmic rattling surrounded them. Now it was her turn to blush, an excited hungry look upon her face. Henry flinched, a sudden sharp stabbing pain at the base of his neck as she leaned down and sank her teeth into his flesh. 

  
  


“ _Hey what the hell are… y-you…”_ Henry began angrily, trailing off as a curious warm feeling of desire washed over his body. She lifted her head, red bruised teeth marks where she had bitten him, a tiny trickle of blood moving down his chest. He felt hot, his heart thumped in his chest, the excitement in his pants amplified as he felt his member twitch to life, pressing against the fabric. She felt his bulge beneath her, an excited grin as she moved her hips back and forth, rubbing herself against him. 

  
  


“ _Oovatyal must bond first”_ The Az’kel explained in a husky sultry tone, climbing off of Henry as she stood before him. Henry nodded slightly, his mouth hanging open with desire, finding himself to be drooling ever so slightly. The bite wound on his neck seemed to pulse excitement across his body, causing every part of him to flood with sensitivity and longing for physical contact. He watched in awe as the sun kissed beauty removed his trousers, her eyes wide with anticipation as his thick member sprung forth. His cock twitched, glistening with precum already, a curious almost unnatural warm sensation throughout it. He turned his attention to the petite beauty before him, sliding her shorts wordlessly down her wide hips past her thighs down to the ground below. She was completely hairless, her soft pink lips glistening with lust as she quickly straddled him once again.

  
  


She locked her eyes against his as she rocked her hips back and forth, giggling slightly at his intoxicated look, grinding his member between them both. Wordlessly, she raised herself forward, perching his tip between her lips. She hooked her arms around his neck, lowering herself slowly, his cock slipping slowly into her tight pussy. She gasped, in part from his size in comparison to her small frame, and in part by hot his cock felt within her. She lowered herself fully, moaning in satisfaction as she felt herself filled completely by her new partner. Henry placed his hands either side of her waist, straining slightly to feel more of his cock inside of her, his mind somewhat foggy as if this were some wonderful dream. 

  
  


Slowly, she began to gently rock her hips back and forth, rising and falling an inch or so as she worked herself into a rhythm. Gaining confidence, she began to bounce herself atop his lap, moaning pleasantly as she felt his girthy shaft pushing in and out of her. Henry tightened his grip, encouraging her to bounce faster, his hips rising and falling in time with her movements. This was his first time, wasn’t it? Why was it so hard for him to think? Regardless, the movements came naturally to him, her wet tight walls providing immense pleasure to his sensitive cock. She bounced harder and faster still, staring hungrily into his eyes, her passionate lustful moans of pleasure like music to his ears. 

  
  


Her soft thighs squeezed him from either side, her face flushed red as her impassioned cries grew louder, her tail encircling them tighter. Her bouncing now was aggressive, a wet lewd noise sounding out as she fucked him as hard as she could manage. Her walls tightened abruptly and she threw her head back in pleasure, her tail rattling and shaking furiously as she came. Henry was close, and as she climaxed her walls pulsed and tightened, starting at the base of his cock then moving in a wave-like motion up to her cervix. These ripple like movements were intense and repeated, literally milking his cock to orgasm as he shot rope after rope of thick cream inside of her. The two panted in each other's arms, Azrielle’s tail uncoiling and falling limply to the floor behind her. After a few moments, Henry felt his mind begin to clear as the Az’kel dismounted from him, thick white cum leaking down her thighs as she sat beside him, leaning against him in exhaustion.

  
  


Henry struggled to catch his breath, his ribs and back immediately becoming sore once again, looking to the woman with surprise and confusion. _Well, at least I know what she meant by partners now._ He mused, feeling strangely proud of himself. Something was bothering him though, and he opened his mouth to speak.

  
  


“ _Why did you bite me?”_ He asked, prodding the red tooth marks curiously with his fingertips. Azrielle sat up, looking at him with confusion. 

  
  


“ _For your… uh…”_ She began, pointing at his still hard cock which twitched with sensitivity as her finger collided with it. Henry didn’t understand what she meant. 

  
  
  


“ **_Serus_ ** _? From my teeth? How else to make you big?”_ She explained, touching her fangs with her teeth. Henry struggled to put one and one together, realising that she woman must have venom of a sort in her teeth, designed to get men hard. But why have such a thing? Unless of course, the male Az’kel could not get hard without the use of such venom? He frowned slightly at the realisation and shook his head. _Poor bastards._ The woman groaned in discomfort, her stomach growling audibly as her tail curled about her feet once more. 

  
  


“ _Oh of course, you must be hungry. Hey why don’t I go get some more wood for the fire, and we can cook up these fish I caught?”_ Henry inquired, the woman affectionately nuzzling herself against his shoulder and nodding in agreement at the idea. Henry stood up, sheepishly doing his trousers back up as he picked his coat from the seat and put it on. 

  
  


“ _You going to be Ok for a bit while I get more wood? I won’t go far, so if you need me you can shout.”_ Henry explained. The woman’s eyes grew wide with fear at the realisation he needed to leave. 

  
  


“ _You will not leave Azrielle, yes? We are Oovatyal now, yes?”_ She inquired timidly, feeling herself begin to panic at the prospect of abandonment. Henry leaned down, kissing her forehead tenderly which made the woman blush.

  
  


“ _We are Oovatyal. I won’t be long, I promise”_ He reassured, thankful to see a smile return to her lips. 

  
  


Henry stepped out into the cold evening air, the blizzard coming down thick now and immediately a gust of frigid air blasted his face. He retrieved his axe from the back of the cart, and approached the tree he had begun to cut down what felt like years ago now. He raised his axe, frowning into the darkness. What was he supposed to do next? They couldn’t stay here longer than tonight, not if he wanted to keep her safe.

  
  


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If you would like to take part in this interactive story, get access to additional content for the story such as Azrielle’s diary, and get access to TWWS encylcopedia, take a look at my twitter! <https://twitter.com/SmutKnight>

I thoroughly hope you’ve enjoyed this story so far, as it will be updated bimonthly with new chapters!

  
  
<3 SmutKnight

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Shelter In The Ruins

Henry swung at the tree rhythmically with the heavy two handed axe. As the trunk was steadily stripped away from beneath it, so too were the options in his mind of what to do with the poor girl. He could start south now, strike while the iron was hot, after all the further south they went the more mild and merciful the winter would be for her. He frowned. He had no idea what supplies they had, or if he would even be able to get enough firewood on their journey to keep the fire alive. No, that would never do, he needed time to prepare. Perhaps he should head to his cabin in Lampveller? After all he had a fair few coins saved up for a new axehead and a warmer coat, not to mention a new smokehouse. That money could certainly be used to help get her south, he’d perhaps even be able to get her some new clothes from the tailor while he was there. He grimaced, remembering that Lampveller was where the person who intended to buy her was, and that he could be out looking for his late delivery. What would Azrielle think of him if he were to endanger her like that? Would she believe he was intending to sell her off for himself and steal the Slaver’s profits instead? Too risky, much too risky. _I’ll take her up to the ruins for tonight, stay there until the storm passes in the morning. At the very least she’ll be safe and I’ll have the opportunity to stock up on firewood._

  
  


The tree cracked and splintered as it fell to the side, landing heavily in the snow. Henry took a few deep breaths, recovering from the effort, still feeling the impact of steel against wood in his cold hands. His forearm stung with renewed pain. He’d need to bandage it when he got back inside, assuming he could find some medical supplies lying around in the carriage. He affixed the axe to his side through a loop on his belt, leaning down painfully in the snow and gripping the felled tree as he dragged it out onto the road. With every footstep his back seemed to ache and complain more than the last, he had no doubt the lantern had left some nasty bruising. He let go of the tree, letting it slump quietly against the cobbled path, straightening and stretching his back with a pained grunt. He scowled at the tree, realising it still needed delimbing and hacking up into manageable sized logs. He frowned slightly, exhaustion weighing heavily on his body. He looked at the carriage door with a slight smile. _I’ll go see how she’s getting on before I get started._

  
  


Henry opened the door, a chilly gust of wind threatening to slam the door shut before he could make his way inside, sending a flurry of snowflakes into the toasty interior. Azrielle was sat cross legged in front of the fire, with her head leaned forward and her horns held up to the glass. As the door opened she sat bolt upright, her tail tensing and lifting with her threatening arrowhead shaped tip pointed squarely at Henry. Upon realising it was him, she lowered her tail at once and smiled sweetly up at him, shivering slightly from the brief brisk wind. The woodcutter beamed back at her, getting down on one knee beside her and removing his gloves, holding his numbed hands up to the fire. 

  
  


“ _Wood hunting was hard?”_ Azrielle inquired, prodding at his still empty knapsack with the tip of her tail, a small frown appearing on her lips. Henry raised an eyebrow at her in confusion, before noticing her tail probing at the bag upon his back.

  
  


“ _Oh! No I’m just warming my hands up a bit before I start chopping up the tree outside. Don’t you worry”_ He reassured, a pleased rattling reverberating around the cabin interior as her tail shimmered and shook. Henry grinned from ear to ear, caught off guard once more by the strange reaction.

  
  


“ _Do you do that deliberately?”_ He asked, turning his attention to the dainty woman beside him. The Az’kel looked at him with confusion for a moment, before realising he was referring to her tail. She curled the tail close, holding it against her chest in both arms with the tip hanging limply beside her head. She seemed rather bashful as she spoke.

  
  


“ _No, Az’kel tail rattles when happy, uh…”_ She paused, pondering a good way of explaining the reaction to her human companion. “ _Is like… how you smile when happy. You do not think it, yet it happens anyway. Same for tail, that is how tail smiles.”_ Azrielle explained as best she could, rosy embarrassment adorning her sun-kissed cheeks, never having had to explain such a thing before and subsequently feeling incredibly self conscious. She expected Henry to laugh at her, having got her to make a fool of herself by explaining such innate knowledge among Az’kel, but he smiled as sweetly as ever and nodded in understanding.

  
  


“ _That’s really interesting, I didn’t know that”_ He marvelled, finding it unsurprising given how mysterious her race was to him. Hells, he’d barely even believed they existed before today; some made up myth to stop northern kids straying too far south. Her tail shimmered and rattled out once more, the bashful woman feeling validated by his serious response. She looked the pale man up and down, a question of her own springing to mind.

  
  


“ _You have_ **_Ignal_ ** _-blood?”_ She inquired, delicately reaching out and taking his hand in hers. She held his hand out flat, touching his palm softly with her fingertips. Henry looked from her hands to her face, trying to ascertain what she meant. Azrielle felt silly as she tried to remember the human word for it. She nodded towards the fire. 

  
  


_“Ignal, in here?”_ She reiterated, tracing her finger along his palm and moving down his hand, tapping lightly against his wrist and the blue criss-crossing veins that resided beneath.

  
  


“ _Fire? In my blood? No I can’t say that there is”_ The man chuckled, wondering if this was some Az’kel proverb he was not yet familiar with. Azrielle placed her palm against his, and with a dissatisfied pout she moved her hand away. Without warning, she moved her hand below the bottom of his coat, underneath the fabric of his shirt and held her hand flat against his chest. He flinched, unsure of what the strange woman was doing.

  
  


“ _But you are so warm, even though there is bitter air outside. How is this?”_ She continued, her eyes brightening as she enjoyed her saviour’s body heat against her hand. Henry understood what she meant, feeling rather sheepish with her hand beneath his shirt. In truth he didn’t have an answer for her. After all, he still got cold just like anyone else were he to stay outside for too long, even with his thick fur lined jacket. But she was right; in comparison to how quickly she’d succumbed to the cold his blood must run hotter than hers.

  
  


“ _I really don’t know, maybe your blood is just colder than mine? Or perhaps living this far north I’ve grown accustomed to the cold?”_ He pondered. Since she came from a desert, perhaps she just wasn’t used to the cold, after all from what he’d heard from travellers it was always near-roasting there, even in the nighttime. Dissatisfied with his answer, her hand moved down from his chest to his stomach, which Henry sucked in almost instantly in response. She probed and prodded his belly all over in a focused almost methodical way. Henry tried to stifle his laughter, her slender fingers against his sensitive stomach making him incredibly ticklish. Deciding enough was enough he guided her hand down and out from his top, wiping a tear of scarcely contained laughter from his eye. Azrielle smirked at him, her tail rattling slightly at having elicited such a response.

  
  


“ _You do not eat hot ash then?_ ” Azrielle teased, having suspected that such a rumour often spread among Az’kel children was nothing more than speculation and nonsense. And after not feeling any particularly hot spots on his abdomen she was satisfied that this was not the case. Henry couldn’t help but laugh at such a ridiculous notion, the exotic woman joining him with her own pleasant almost musical laughter. 

  
  


“ _Not if I can help it!”_ Henry teased back, blushing from laughing so hard. Sensing a lull in the conversation he went to tend to the flame, planning to open the stove to adjust the half-burnt logs, but winced as he moved his injured arm. Azrielle’s eyes widened with fresh concern for his injuries.

  
  


“ _Can Azrielle see?”_ She asked softly, tenderly rolling back his snow-covered sleeve. She looked at his forearm, studying the oozing gash where the bolt had sliced it open. Although she was focused on making sure her Oovatyal was safe and looked after, she couldn’t help but feel a slight excitement smoldering between her thighs at the sight of the wounds he had sustained fighting for her. She touched her fingers delicately at the red slightly swollen flesh, causing Henry to recoil. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, looping the end of her tail around his arm gracefully, holding his arm firmly in place. She stood up, lifting the seat-cover beside them to look at the storage beneath. She shifted the blankets and spare clothes to the side, eyeing the packaged dried meats hungrily for a moment, before reaching down and grabbing one of the curious vegetables. 

  
  


Henry watched her with nervous curiosity, uneasy at the strength of her tail as it held his arm in place. He tried to move his arm a little bit, but found that there was not even a hint of resistance he could muster against her powerful appendage. He knew she intended to help him, but the realisation of how scarily strong this woman’s tail was, and how easily she could snap his arm like a twig, beset his mind with doubt. But as she turned back around, a look of gentle consideration in her empathetic dark green eyes, any doubt he had of her good intentions melted away. She used her tail to hold him still as she knelt down beside him, the curious bulb-like root in her hands. To Henry it looked almost like an onion that had been left in the sun too long, a dark brown hue that reminded him of tree bark. The exterior was tough too he soon realised, resembling a nut, as Azrielle hit it against the end of her tail to crack it open. 

  
  


Much to his surprise, the inside of the root-like bulb was pale green and translucent, seemingly with the consistency of watered down porridge. Her tail pulled his arm closer, scooping some of the slimy jelly-like goop up into her hand and spreading it across the cut on his arm. At once the hot irritated flesh around the wound cooled down, soothed by the pleasantly cool gel. He reached over to touch it between his fingers, marvelling at it’s odd consistency. Azrielle urged him to shuffle forward towards the fireplace, guiding his arm next to it with her tail. 

  
  


“ _What is it?”_ He asked in fascination, never having seen such a thing before. The Az’kel smiled sweetly, getting some on her fingers and beginning to delicately dab the cooling gel onto the small cuts covering the right side of his face. He closed his eye shut and tried hard not to wince as she applied the jelly. 

  
  


“ **_Aloettá_ ** , _is Az’kel plant. Like uh… medee… medeeshen?_ ''Azrielle explained, unsure of the human word.

  
  


“ _Medicine?”_ Henry offered, prompting an affirmative nod from his partner. 

  
  


“ _Yes, is medicine. Help stop cuts going bad.”_ She continued, relieved that the Slavers had also taken her belongings when they had captured her. She frowned, her mind momentarily occupied with the misery and trauma of the experience, feeling fear begin to creep into every inch of her body. Henry prodded at the now solidifying mass of goo upon his arm, having changed to a dark opaque green colour almost like a cucumber, snapping Azrielle back to the present. She slapped at his hand playfully with a grin on her lips.

  
  


“ _Do not touch! You are like fidgety child, no touching till it sets!”_ She scolded jokingly before turning her attention back to his arm. She waited until the very edges of the gel-like covering were the same dark green, and finally released her tail’s grip. She moved past Henry to the shelf above where she had been sitting previously, and gasped in delight as she found a small linen sack full of cloth bandages of varying length. Meanwhile, Henry was busy prodding and picking at the curious green mass now stuck to his arm. She turned back round, tutting at him as she got back down onto her knees, slowly coiling the bandage around his arm. Once the wound was wrapped enough for her satisfaction, she gently rolled his sleeve back in place. 

  
  


Henry moved his arm slowly, marvelling at how the goopy innards of the bulb had now taken a wax-like consistency, and how the pain in his arm had been considerably numbed. He opened his right eye slowly, noting that the lacerations from his chin to his brow all stung noticeably less with the movement. 

  
  


“ _Wow… that’s much better. Thank you, Azrielle.”_ Henry praised, flexing his arm and wiggling his fingers as he adjusted to the curious lump now bandaged to him. The tanned woman nodded in agreement, knowing she had done a good job tending to him, a sense of pride brewing in her chest. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle takes care of her brave Oovatyal, yes”_ She announced cheerfully, her tail shaking and rattling against the wooden floor. Her heart skipped a beat as the word left her lips, overjoyed at being able to give something back to her liberator. Henry got to his feet, moving his jaw around as the numbness that had soothed the pain of his arm began to numb where she had applied the aloettá to his face. Evidently, the curious plant acted as a kind of painkiller. The Az’kel got to her feet too, using her great tail to spring her off the ground without the use of her hands. Her hands instead made their way to either side of his face, still causing Henry to wince out of reaction, despite the cuts being numbed. Azrielle stood on her tiptoes, bouncing slightly as she struggled to reach his forehead, with Henry eventually crouching slightly to let her do so. She kept his face in one hand, and with the other she moved his messy hair that stuck out from under his hat to the side, pressing her lips gently against his forehead.

  
  


Both Azrielle and Henry felt themselves blush at the touching romantic gesture, though Azrielle was just desperately hoping such a gesture was acceptable for her to do. After all she was only doing it because Henry had done so to her, and it had made her heart flutter in her chest, so she wanted to return the favour. Thankfully it had had the desired effect on the lumberjack, who felt his heart melt ever so slightly. He raised his hand, cupping her cheek, which Azrielle nuzzled her face against. 

  
  


He withdrew his hand abruptly, causing the Az’kel’s eyes to search his face, concerned that she had done something wrong. Henry bit his lip, worried that he might be taking advantage of her situation. After all she barely knew who he was, and he scarcely knew who she was. Granted they’d had sex but he hadn’t… he hadn’t had the most say in the matter, even though he had certainly enjoyed it. Upon seeing Azrielle’s worried frown, he realised that his priority of keeping her safe came first, and the fire needed replenishing soon. 

  
  


“ _Alright, I’m going to head out again and delimb that tree and chop it up into logs for the fire. After I’ve done that we can cook up these fish to eat, sound good?”_ He inquired, the Az’kel’s tail shimmering accompanied by an enthusiastic nod of agreement from the woman at the prospect of a decent meal. He paused, contemplating the wording of his next sentence.

  
  


“ _And then I’ll take us north towards the old ruins, I think you’ll be safest there while we wait out the snowstorm. Besides, I'll have plenty of time to stock up on-”_ He was interrupted, a look of despair and desperation creeping onto her face.

  
  


“ _What? Azrielle needs to go south, needs to go home. Henry promised this Azrielle!”_ She exclaimed, her eyes watering in confusion and desperation. He couldn’t stand the sight of her upset, and reached a hand out to her gingerly. She recoiled, stepping back towards the stove. The woodsman’s heart sank. He clenched his fingers away from her, lowering his arm slowly, unsure of how to explain himself better. Her eyes shut tight in frustration, the prospect of spending just another night moving further away from home was almost too much for her to bear. Her tail coiled around her feet protectively, her lip quivering as she searched for the right words to try and convince him he was wrong. 

  
  


Henry reached out again, feeling protective of the vulnerable woman, wanting to comfort her.

She gasped as his hand met her shoulder, her tail shooting up in reaction with the obsidian arrow shaped tip pointing squarely against his chest. The intimidating tail dropped to the floor however as she was pulled gently into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her tenderly, holding her petite frame against himself. 

  
  


“ _I know how badly you want to go home. I will get you there, Azrielle. But I worry that someone might come try and find you and… I don’t know that I can keep you safe if that happens. I promise it’s only a little way up the road, and I promise it will only be for tonight. By midday tomorrow most of the snow will have melted and we’ll be able to head south that much faster. I know it’s hard and I know you’ve been through a lot, but I’m trying to do what’s best for you.”_ He explained, feeling her sob gently against his chest. What more could he say? He knew this was the best decision for her but she- He stopped himself mid thought. He frowned to himself. No, people had been making decisions for her for months. She had been robbed of her free will and even now she must feel completely powerless. Despite being out of the cage, she still did not have her freedom. He had been insensitive. The least he could do for her now is respect her free will.

  
  


“ _We’ll go wherever you want, Ok Azrielle? If you think it’s best to go south, you just need to say the word and we’ll head south. It’s your decision.”_ He reassured softly, his arms awkwardly still against her back as he awaited her response. Her sniffles began to subside as her crying slowly came to a stop. She leaned backwards so she could face him, a thankful smile on her lips despite the tear tracks down her cheeks. She leaned back against him, nuzzling her head against his shoulder.

  
  


“ _You are good man. Good Oovatyal. Azrielle could not want a better partner.”_ She replied quietly, her voice shaky and still recovering from her tears. Henry squeezed her slightly, wanting her to know that she was safe, desperately wishing he could undo the damage these men had done to her.

  
  


“ _Henry knows the north better. You saved this Azrielle, Azrielle trusts that you will keep her safe.”_ She replied after a few minutes of contemplation, enjoying the warmth and security of the taller man’s embrace. Henry closed his eyes and nodded, thankful that she had taken his advice. She lingered in his arms, before a crack and pop from the fire behind her reminded her that he needed to fetch more wood. She stepped back reluctantly, feeling rather bashful about how upset she’d gotten. Henry looked at her with understanding, his kind eyes moving from her, to the fireplace, then to the door. 

  
  


“ _I will keep you safe, I promise. Why don’t you get comfortable and rest a bit, I’ll be just outside sorting this tree.”_ He reassured, watching as she sat down on the seat, hugging her tail in her arms as she got comfortable, a weak smile returning to her lips. 

  
  


Henry stepped outside the carriage, making sure to only open the door as little as possible to let as little of the frigid blizzard winds inside as he could. Once his feet hit the steadily deepening snow of the cobbled road, he looked up and down the solitary lane once more just to ensure they were truly alone. He listened, hearing nothing but the whistling wind and the steady patter and chuffing of the horses just beyond the treeline. He flexed his arm once more, impressed by how much better it felt, but groaned in pain as soon as he reached down to take his axe from his belt. His arm might be better, sure. But his back and ribs were as sore as ever. Maybe he should have gotten the Az’kel to rub some on his bruises too. He shook his head, telling himself that he’d ask once he had a knapsack full of logs to bring her.

  
  


Despite the icy gusts of wind that numbed his extremities and the dusting of snow that steadily began to weigh down his clothing, the process of delimbing the tree was quick and painless. After all, he’d spent days upon days ever since his youth practicing the best and safest ways to go logging. Just as he’d thrown the last of the limbs to the side, placing his axe on his belt and taking out the small hand saw that was attached on the opposite side, the door of the carriage crept slowly open beside him. Henry whipped around, brandishing the tiny saw blade, his heart pounding in his chest at the prospect of someone sneaking past him and getting to Azrielle. His fearful look turned to bewilderment as he watched the Az’kel step hesitantly out into the blizzard, shutting the door carefully behind her. She sat herself down on the steps of the carriage, adorned in a cloth blanket with a thick looking fur pelt draped around her shoulders. She tucked her arms up against her chest as she got comfortable, her great tail coiling itself around her torso, holding the blanket and fur firmly against her body. 

  
  


“ _Hey I’m… I’m almost done here. Sorry, was I taking a while? I didn’t mean to worry you”_ Henry questioned, having to raise his voice to be heard above the howling wind. The Az’kel smiled, shivering ever so slightly despite the warm furs as the cold air stung her face. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle just wanted to check in on you.”_ She explained, squeezing herself slightly with her tail, fighting to keep the cold off of her body. In truth, however, she had grown lonely. She had travelled for the better part of a year in that dreadful cage, and all the while she had never said a word to the men who had imprisoned her. The loneliness had been brutal, but she had used it to her advantage, a badge of resilience showing that she had not yet been broken. But in the few minutes she’d spent talking with Henry, her desire for the comforts of social interaction had been rekindled within her once more, making the quiet interior of the carriage seem quite inhospitable. Henry beamed at her, lowering the saw as he got down onto his knees ready to start cutting the trunk up. 

  
  


“ _I’m fine Azrielle, you can go back inside if you want”_ Henry remarked, worried for her safety out here in the cold. The Az’kel shook her head, insistent on staying out here with Henry. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle will stay until she’s too cold”_ She reassured, thankful for the thick blankets that kept the worst of the wind off of her. 

  
  


As Henry tended to the tree, accumulating a sizable pile of logs, the pair chatted back and forth. Given the time of evening, the topic of conversation didn’t stray far from food. Henry asked her about what she liked to eat, but meat seemed to be all the woman had an interest in. Given her predatory array of sharp teeth, this didn’t surprise the woodsman in the slightest. Azrielle informed him that in Vastreshi forest, fish was considered a delicacy. It was something she’d only had once; when she had celebrated her transition into adulthood. He inquired as to what she would eat in the forest normally, but there seemed to be a language barrier that proved too tough to traverse just yet. She said her people would dig it up something from the ground, whatever it was, and they would eat that. But despite Henry’s insistence that it must be a vegetable or plant of some kind, Azrielle was having none of it and insisted it was similar to fish or venison. 

  
  


Normally Henry would split the logs in twain against a tree stump to make them easier to manage and quicker for the flame to take to. But he was hurting badly from the bruising along his back and didn’t want to stray too far from the curious woman and end up worrying her, or worse yet, not being around if something bad were to happen. So instead he loaded the logs into his knapsack, struggling to lift the thing from the ground as his back spasmed and complained. Azrielle saw this and stood up, stretching out her tail and hooking the tip through the handle, effortlessly lifting the backpack up towards the cart. Henry was once again reminded of her strength and her compassion, sheepishly thanking her as they both stepped eagerly into the carriage shutting the door behind them. 

  
  


Azrielle placed the bag by the fireplace, which Henry quickly tended to, stacking a few into the sizable metallic stove before shutting the door once more. He watched thankfully as the flame took to the new fuel, heat radiating out into the interior leaving the room rather toasty. He turned to ask if Azrielle was ready for dinner, only to catch the girl sat on the cushioned seat nibbling at some dried meat she’d taken from the underseat storage. He couldn’t help but grin at the pure contentment on her face as she savoured the tough stick of meat. He took a moment to rest his legs, sitting beside her as he began removing his coat, gloves and hat. He looked for somewhere to put them, noticing with a laugh that there were hooks on the wall either side of the doors, in complete disbelief at the luxury the men had been travelling in.

  
  


“ _This place is nicer than my cabin”_ Henry joked, unsure as to whether Azrielle had heard him or was too focused on her food. As he sat back down next to her, she looked as if she was contemplating whether or not to eat the rest of the dried meat, looking to Henry pensively. She grinned, stuffing the remaining food into her mouth and chewing it up as she moved to straddle him once more. He flinched, a mixture of excitement and embarrassment in his stomach as his cheeks went red.

  
  


“ _Azrielle wants to share with her Oovatyal”_ The woman cooed, a soft nurturing tone of voice that made Henry’s spine tingle, despite her mouth being full. 

  
  


“ _Uh… Ok? I mean I was about to cook us up some fish anyway but…”_ Henry replied somewhat fearfully, keenly aware that the Az’kel had already finished her jerky. Sure enough, his fears came to light as the woman opened her mouth, still full of chewed meat, and moved it close to his.

  
  


“ **_Nope!_ ** _”_ Henry shouted, turning his head away from hers and laughing from the awkwardness. Azrielle seemed distressed and offended at him so harshly rejecting her advances, but after a little explanation that sharing food like that was in fact **not** normal for a human, she couldn’t help but feel sheepish. For the desert dweller, having only had the barest of interactions with humans through the cruel men she’d been travelling with, it was still difficult to know which customs were unique to the Az’kel and which were common among the two races. Henry gathered that what she had tried to initiate was intimate, something that an Az’kel woman would do for her partner. He wondered if this action was their version of kissing, as he got up to start cooking the fish.

  
  


After rummaging under the seat they had been sat on, he was pleased to find quite a lot of things stored beneath, not least of which was a large frying pan. He got to work filleting and cooking the fish atop the great cat-iron fireplace. Azrielle watched in amusement, practically drooling as she questioned Henry about everything he was doing. As it turned out, Azrielle had seldom little cooking experience and neither did her friends or family. Whatever it was that they dug up from the desert sands to eat, which she still insisted was just ‘meat’, did not require any preparation. Henry asked about the fish the distant tribes brought her, and she clarified that they were dried like the preserved meat she had been munching on. He couldn’t help but feel a little intimidated by her strange culture, wondering if she would even enjoy his humble seared fish fillets. 

  
  


After a few minutes cooking in their own oil, they seemed to the woodsman to be about done. He’d have seasoned them with salt and garlic, but with the thought of travellers spotting them on the road in the back of his mind, he decided not to rummage and try to find any seasoning tucked away in the large carriage. Instead, he asked Azrielle to hunt for something to eat off of while he finished up the cook. He was happy to see that she was able to find a small stack of plates bundled in some protective cloth under the seat to his right. He retrieved one of the full waterskins and placed it between the two of them as they sat down on the bench-like seat, both with a plate stacked high with fish on their laps. The poor woman seemed to be on the verge of tears again, quite possibly overwhelmed at the sight of so much food, and Henry noticed her tail coil gently around his legs as she began to tuck in.

  
  


The woodsman of course hadn’t handed her any cutlery yet, having had trouble asking her to search for some as she didn’t seem to understand the word, but she was content to eat with her hands nonetheless. He watched in awe as the dainty woman demolished the slabs of meat, making soft noises of enjoyment and satisfaction as she happily tore through the meal he’d prepared with her fang-like teeth. She blushed as she noticed him watching her out of the corner of her eye, so not wanting to be rude, Henry began eating as well. To him the fish was rather bland, and eating it by itself with no accompanying vegetables seemed a tad barbaric. But from the look in her eyes and the way her tail shook and rattled out joyously with every mouthful, he could tell she was enjoying it.The pair finished up their meals, the Az’kel having eaten almost twice the amount Henry had. 

  
  


She flopped to her side, leaning fully against Henry as he swallowed the last few mouthfuls of today’s catch. She nuzzled and rubbed her head against his shoulder, gently grabbing his arm and lifting it over her, so that he was holding her. Henry sat shyly for a few minutes as the exotic woman affectionately showed her appreciation of him. He had never been romantically involved with anyone before, and as such this kind of tender affection was completely new to him. He placed his hand on her waist and kept it there, unsure of how to reciprocate the gentle comfort she provided. For her however, this wasn’t nearly enough. After a few moments she sat bolt upright, her eyes staring longingly into his as she bit her lip.

  
  


“ _Could you… do the thing with the…”_ She stumbled, an unsure tone of voice as her cheeks grew rosy. She pointed gingerly to her forehead, unable to hold his gaze as she lowered her head slightly. His heart was warmed by her unceasing adorableness, and he gladly gave her what she wanted. He took her face delicately in his hands and pressed his lips to her forehead. At once her tail sounded out, a soft squeak of enjoyment escaping her lips. As soon as he pulled away from her, she descended upon him. She was on her knees next to him, her hands holding his face eagerly as she kissed his forehead repeatedly. He couldn’t help but laugh, prompting a giggle from the affectionate woman between her kisses, running her hands through his coarse brunette hair. Eventually her onslaught of passion came to an end, sitting back down and practically glowing with enjoyment, her heart fluttering almost as much as her eyelashes. 

  
  


As much as he wanted to remain here next to her, he knew it was time to get them off the road. He stood up, putting on his winter gear and ensuring the fire was properly stoked. He made sure she knew he would just be outside sat in the driver’s seat, and that it wouldn’t be more than an hour before they’d get to the ruins. She kissed his forehead one last time with a loving smile, before standing back to let him out from the carriage without getting blasted by a gust of cold air. 

  
  


Despite the bleak weather outside, and the complete lack of sunlight, Henry couldn’t help but whistle merrily to himself. His spirits had been lifted completely from having a warm meal inside him, and thanks to the gentle compassion the woman had showed him, clearly grateful for everything he’d done. Despite the sun having set, the steadily deepening snow that clung to the ground and the trees gave everything a pleasant pale glow. He rounded the front of the carriage and retrieved the pair of horses from the treeline, tempting them back with a new apple each. He found no trouble in securing them to the reigns once more, pleasantly surprised by how obedient the gentle giants were. He scarcely had time to clamber up onto the seat at the front before they were moving, the great wooden wheels creaking to life as they tumbled over the cobble track through the snow. 

  
  


Henry kept an ear out for anything and everything as they trundled further north, breathing a sigh of relief as the ruins came steadily into view at the very end of the track. As they moved, he heard Azrielle moving about behind him, the sound of the seats being opened and closed as she no doubt was rummaging through her former captor’s belongings. He wondered what kind of supplies they had, not having taken a proper inventory just yet, but judging by the rattling of the Az’kel’s tail, she had found something to her liking. 

  
  


As he guided the horses off of the track and into one of the roofless buildings through a collapsed wall, he studied the ancient masonry around them. The stone blocks were worn and weathered, but sturdy enough that he need not worry about the wind crashing the walls down around them while they slept. He mused that at one time this building might have been a church or a town hall, but was now being used as an improvised stable. Henry got down out of the riders seat and trudged through the deep snow back onto the track. He was satisfied that the carriage was completely hidden, and he had no doubt that their tracks would be hidden by the downpour of snowflakes in no time at all. He looked out across the crumbling former town, scarcely more than a few hollow stone buildings now, trees springing forth between them as nature reclaimed the previously lived on land. He’d spent a lot of his youth here in the summer, exploring the crumbling abodes. Supposedly this had been where his ancestors had first called home hundreds of years ago, before finding the rigid cliff-like valley that his town of Lampveller now resided in. He shivered. It’s no wonder they all moved, the small forest clearing here offered no protection from the icy winds.

  
  


He trudged back through the snow, climbing up onto the seat and finding a sack full of grain. He fed a few handfuls to the horses who neighed and chuffed in appreciation, before untying them from the reigns to allow them some comfort. Just as he began to pat one of them along its neck, he heard a loud thunk from inside the carriage, and quickly stepped inside to investigate. Azrielle shouted slightly in surprise as the door opened, before quickly breathing an apology, a crossbow held clumsily against her chest. Henry looked from her, to the crossbow, and putting two and two together, he turned to look above the door where there was a crossbow bolt embedded into the wood. He turned to her for an explanation, her sun-kissed cheeks darkening with embarrassment.

  
  


“ _Sorry, accident.”_ She explained bashfully, handing Henry the crossbow. He took it, somewhat hesitantly, and inspected it. It seemed to be in good condition, showing minimal wear and tear. As much as he wanted to be annoyed at Azrielle for being so careless, he was much too relieved to have an actual weapon to defend her with should he run into any more slavers before getting her south. After all, those men had kept referencing a ‘Clint’ that he was almost certain must be their boss. Henry was about to tell Azrielle to be more careful next time, but as soon as he looked up at her again his jaw dropped to the floor. 

  
  


There she was stood, no longer in her bandages and tattered shorts, but instead in an expensive looking black dress adorned with frilly white lace and a decorative trim. The bottom of the dress came halfway down her thighs, ruffled and wide which helped to compliment her hips, the rest of the dress hugging tight to her frame. The dress covered her bust without showing any cleavage, with thin black straps that draped over her shoulders. She was twiddling her fingers together sheepishly, unwilling to look him in the eye with the guilt of accidentally firing the crossbow. 

  
  


“ _Where… where did that come from?”_ He inquired, unable to hide the smile he got from seeing the pretty woman in such decorative clothing. If he didn’t know any better, it almost looked like a maid’s outfit…

  
  


“ _Oh! Azrielle sorted through all the stuff and found it!”_ The Az’kel announced cheerfully, twirling slightly to show off to her handsome saviour. As she turned, he couldn’t help but notice her tail lifting the hemline up revealing the black lace underwear that lay beneath. He averted his eyes, fighting back the excitement that threatened to build in his boxers as he cleared his throat.

  
  


“ _It looks really nice Azrielle, it really suits you!”_ He complimented off-handedly, the reason for the dress being here beginning to dawn on him. The Slavers had obviously intended to dress her in it before presenting her to whoever was planning on buying her. It fit so well it must have been tailor made, no doubt made from very expensive materials. He felt a little dread as he realised whoever it was who had organised capturing and selling the poor Az’kel must be extraordinarily wealthy, and with wealth came power. His attention was captured once again as Azrielle got to her knees, looking at the seat cushion. He turned to face her and saw that she’d arranged the contents of both the underseat storage chests along the top of the seat. 

  
  


Henry got to his knees carefully, groaning slightly from his back which prompted Azrielle to nuzzle her head against his shoulder as the two took in their supplies. In one corner, wrapped up in some cloth, was a sizable portion of two dozen strips of dried meat. Next to it were two of the Aloettá bulbs she had used to help bandage his arm with, and beside them neatly folded were three thick blankets and the thick pelt she had been using to keep warm earlier. There was a quiver full of a dozen or so bolts, which Henry was extremely thankful to see, though he knew he’d need to take the time to learn how to use the crossbow as he’d never used one before. Below that, coiled up, was a whip. He looked at the leather lash and felt sick to his stomach, instinctively placing a protective arm around the Az’kel’s shoulder. She leaned against him further, running her finger down the scar that ran vertically from the corner of her mouth down to the edge of her jaw as she frowned at the weapon.

  
  


“ _Could be useful, maybe?”_ Azrielle asked softly, clearly not enjoying the memories that came with the implement of pain, before turning to look at Henry. He looked at her with kind eyes, then looked to the whip as his expression turned to disgust. He stood up carefully, taking the whip in his hands which made Azrielle cower in confusion, before he opened the door and launched the device up out of the crumbling building and into the snow beyond. Azrielle’s tail rattled in admiration and awe of the gesture, curling her armour plated tail around the man slightly as he knelt back down. 

  
  


Next to where the whip once was, was a pile of folded clothes. He leafed through them, all of them dark trousers and white buttoned shirts. They were probably a little too big for Henry, but he could almost certainly get them taken in somewhere along the way, or at the very least sell them. There was a small wicker basket full of glass bottles containing spices and herbs, something he desperately wished they had found sooner. Azrielle looked at them as if they were magic, taking them and carefully sniffing each bottle of the curious seasonings. There was a pouch full of silver coins that he was thankful to see. Pouring the contents out and rifling through them, he realised with disappointment that there was scarcely enough money for a decent meal. Nevertheless, everything they had would help. There were three large waterskins, one of which he took and drank thankfully from, as well as the large sturdy flask full of whiskey he had used earlier. There was cutlery, a chisel, a spare set of keys like the one he’d left in the cage door, as well as a hunting knife in a neat leather sheaf, which Henry affixed to his belt. Beside that, a linen cloth pouch full of basic medical equipment: some bandages and a set of needle and thread for sutures.

  
  


Beyond some pots and pans, cleaning and writing equipment, a flint and steel, the only thing left was something packaged in fine silk in the far corner. Henry reached out to unravel the silk, but Azrielle seemed to flinch as he reached for it. He turned to her and her eyes were scrunched up tight, having placed the box of spices back on the seat, hugging his arm tightly. He kissed the top of her head reassuringly, minding her horns, as he unwrapped the silk. Three heavy arrow-shaped objects fell onto the seat, and he realised with a grimace that they were taken from Az’kel tails. He held one in his hand, looking at the obsidian-like bludgeon with morbid curiosity, running his finger along it’s blunted edge. Azrielle whimpered slightly, turning further away from the tail ends, not able to stomach looking at them. He wrapped them up tightly in the silk, holding them in his hands.

  
  


“ _Do you… Do you want me to bury them?”_ He asked hesitantly, unsure of where they had come from and what best to do with them. She squeezed his arm tighter, shaking her head from side to side. 

  
  


“ _Friends. They… they must come home too.”_ She replied quietly, a sombre tone to her voice. He hugged the girl tight, holding the morbid trophies against his chest. He placed them gently into the underseat storage behind them, wanting to keep them somewhere safe but out of her sight. Before he’d met Azrielle, he’d have been overjoyed at the sight of them. He’d met plenty of merchants and bodyguards who wore one around their neck as a necklace, a trophy that demonstrated ruthless skill in combat, so he had no doubt that the three of them would have fetched a small fortune. Looking at Azrielle’s tail though, and the strength it was capable of, he found it hard to believe that any of the supposed trophies he’d seen were anything more than crudely cut fakes made of volcanic glass. Thinking too much about it made him angry, the thought of his kind causing such violence against people like her, just for something to show off with. He squeezed her gently once more.

  
  


“ _I’ve put them away safe. Why don’t you help me put the rest of this away?”_ He asked tenderly, wanting to take her mind off of it. She sniffled slightly, wiping her eyes with her hand as she nodded in agreement. The pair of them bundled all their newfound belongings away under the seat, leaving the opposite storage space empty, save for the stone-like remnants of her friends. Henry carefully stacked a few logs beside and optop of the silk cloth, concealing them from view. He then moved the rest of the wood into the chest, not before topping the fire up once more, and shutting the seat down. After a moment of thought, he took the crossbow out and sat fiddling with it, wrenching the bolt from the ceiling and eventually learning to latch and load the weapon. He looked for how to fire it, and Azrielle was able to point out the trigger, still feeling rather sheepish about discharging it accidentally. He sat it atop the stored wood, wanting to keep it within arms reach just in case. 

  
  


The pair sat down, both exhausted albeit for different reasons. Henry struggled to find something to say, disliking the pervasive silence broken only by the gentle crackling of the fire. He wanted to find the right words to comfort her, to find the things to say to make her feel Ok. He flinched as the Az’kel lay herself down slowly, legs curled up and head resting gently on his lap. He looked down at her, a quiet sadness in her eyes as she gazed at the flickering flame. He realised that perhaps there were some problems that couldn’t be made better through words alone, and that perhaps he had taken his peaceful albeit solitary life somewhat for granted. How had he ever questioned whether he could uproot just to get this woman home? After all, how could he enjoy having a home of his own while knowing she went without one? A silent panic gripped the woodsman as he realised just how close he’d been to walking away, how much he’d desired to not get involved, how easily he could have left her. 

  
  


Azrielle yawned, her tail curling up in front of the fire, that glassy black tail-tip flickering shades of orange and red as the flames reflected off of it. Her eyes were closed now, her body relaxed against his, her breathing steady and slow. He hadn’t left her. Not yet. Not ever. He reached down to her side, taking her hand gently in his, leaning himself back against the cushions as he got comfortable. Her gentle green eyes fluttered open as she squeezed his hand, her tail rattling drowsily. 

  
  


“ _Thank you”_ She whispered, snuggling down against his lap, weaving her fingers between his. Her eyes drifted shut once more, passing peacefully into a much needed slumber. Henry smiled to himself. He had woken up today with a grumble, tired of trees, tired of fishing, tired of the cold. Truth be told he awoke most days like that, never contemplating change, merely accepting the ever more tiresome existence that was expected of him. He was the son of a woodcutter, his father had been the son of a woodcutter, he was always going to be a woodcutter. But in those tense moments, where his body had acted on pure empathy and emotion, nothing else mattered. In those moments the lumberjack had ceased to be, hacking and carving and stripping him of all heritage, of all the mundane comforts he took for granted. Battered and bruised and gasping for breath, the man that scrambled to his feet was no longer a woodcutter, he was a hero. He was **her** hero. He had expected the thought to embolden him, to banish the unease, but the more he thought about it the more terrifying the prospect was. 

  
  
  
  


He awoke with a gasp, his back sore and his mind racing as he struggled to take in his surroundings. Hardwood interior, low roof, and why was he not lying in bed? Disorientated, he looked down at his lap, seeing nothing. Panic gripped his chest as he came to his senses, remembering where he was, and more importantly who wasn’t there. He opened his mouth to shout, turning slightly as the curious Az’kel came into view. She was knelt by his side with her face close to his. He jumped, groaning in pain as his bruised back jerked with the effort. Azrielle stifled a giggle, before promptly straddling the sleepy man, her bare thighs either side of him. She took his sleepy and startled face in her hands, gentle soothing noises escaping her lips as her compassionate eyes gazed at his.

  
  


“ _Hey, is Ok, hush~”_ She reassured calmly, having been up for an hour or so before him. She had been quietly studying and admiring his face. She thought he was handsome, even with the rough curious stubble that adorned his jaw being something unknown to any Az’kel male. She had been gently stroking the back of her hand against it before he had woken up, so felt in part responsible for his abrupt awakening. What had really captured her attention however, was the slowly healing lacerations across his face and the bruised and blackened eye that even now struggled to open. These were injuries he’d received fighting for her, something which was the norm for any potential Az’kel suitor. Strength and prowess were sought after traits when Az’kel woman looked for a partner, with scars and bruising far more appealing than height or jawline. After all, with women playing such a dominant role in Az’kel society, they could afford to be picky and thus the men would often go to great lengths to impress.

  
  


But it was all safe enough, no risk of death, no real threat. Males would fight with their tails, and the strikes were never aimed to kill but rather at the extremities, aiming more to impress than to murder after all they were usually friends. This man however, no tail to be seen and no armour plating, had charged not one but three men for her, sustaining injuries that could have easily been fatal. He didn’t do it for show, he didn’t do it for glory, he did it to help her. He expected nothing in return, showing courage and fierce bravery just because he felt it was the right thing to do. These qualities had set her heart ablaze, leaving no choice but to claim him as her own, demonstrating in brutish fashion just how desirable he was as an Oovatyal. Looking at his injuries had rekindled that fierce passion, both in her heart and between her thighs. 

  
  


As Henry calmed down, the dark skinned woman began gently kissing his forehead, each peck lingering longer and pressing harder than the last. The woman’s hips rocked gently against him as she kissed his face all over. Her rocking grew more eager, her body edging closer and closer to his, gasping as she felt something hard pressing against her. Henry’s cheeks flushed red, caught off guard by such sudden passion, biting his lip slightly as she pressed against his morning wood. She looked down at his trousers, surprised to see a bulge already present, feeling his hard member beneath her as she moved her hips slowly against it. The woodcutter placed his hands either side of her face, guiding her lips gently against his.

  
  


Azrielle blushed as she felt his warm lips against hers, enjoying the strange new sensation. His strong heated hands holding her face made her knees feel weak as he gently parted her lips with his. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Whatever it was he was doing, it was getting her hot and eager for more. His tongue moved slowly between her lips, searching for some reciprocation. Azrielle got the message, gingerly moving the tip of her tongue against his, the frenzy of lust burning fiercely between her thighs as the kiss deepened. It felt strange and wrong somehow, she’d never seen any Az’kel do such a thing, but it felt…

  
  


His tongue brushed against hers, sending an excited chill down her spine. She moaned, pushing her tongue back against his, turning her head to the side slightly as the kiss deepened. It felt **incredible** . She didn’t understand how he’d gotten erect without the _serus_ from her fangs, but her thoughts were clouded further and further by lust every second so she didn’t much care. She moved her hands down, lingering against his warm muscular chest, before deftly unbuckling his trousers. She struggled with pulling down his boxers, unwilling to break the kiss which grew messier and more impassioned by the moment, until eventually Henry himself had to lend a helping hand. He lifted her slightly with one hand, making her squeak and her eyes screw shut with admiration at his strength, as he used his other to pull his member free of the fabric. Azrielle gripped it in her hands as the woodcutter’s returned to her waist, scarcely believing how hot it felt. 

  
  


She lifted her hips, practically drooling into the heated exchange of saliva, needing to feel his heat inside of her. She tried to lower herself onto him, knowing that she must be dripping wet and more than ready to accommodate him. She hissed in frustration as his cock failed to enter her, something that surprised and alarmed Henry. She reached down and moved the black lace underwear, now drenched in her juices, to the side aggressively. She gripped his cock once more and lowered herself down, moaning aloud and gasping as she felt his thick shaft push up into her. She quivered and panted, her tight walls squeezing and massaging his cock as she came slightly. Henry, needing something else to focus on lest she milk him to orgasm already, pulled her with rough clumsiness into a kiss. Azrielle moaned sweetly, her tongue diving desperately between his lips once more. 

  
  


Her hips began rocking and bouncing, the black frilly dress ruffling up and down as she rode his cock, saliva dripping messily from the corner of her mouth as she desperately sought to explore every last inch of her lover’s mouth with her tongue. She found herself trying to pull away, instinctively wanting to bite his neck, having to stop herself as she launched her lips back against his. Her bouncing grew faster and more desperate, her wet walls quivering and sliding against his sensitive head as she did so. Henry felt his cock twitch, edging closer and closer with every provocative moan and whimper. He moved his hands below her dress, gripping her soft ass firmly in his fingers, slowing her bouncing. He didn’t want to finish yet, he wanted to enjoy himself more.

  
  


Azrielle was confused by his actions, worrying that she had done something wrong or perhaps even hurt him, ready to dismount as he held her at a stop. She gasped in pleasure as his hands squeezed her ass, his tongue moving against hers, his hunger still evident as his cock twitched inside her. His strong arms guided her hips back and forth slowly, enjoying how it felt inside of her, taking things steady to enjoy it for as long as possible. For Azrielle, even without the bouncing, his hot tip stretching her out and pushing against her cervix made her whimper and whine with bliss.

  
  


The couple continued their heated kiss, Azirelle steadily getting the hang of the rhythmic almost dance-like movements, swirling her tongue around against his as she savoured his flavour. Her breathing became heavy, and he could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she desperately tried to press as much of her body against his as possible. Her tail began to rattle and shimmer, something Henry knew meant she was close. He lifted her up, her pillowy ass spilling out between his fingers slightly, before lowering her again on his cock. She didn’t need further encouragement; aggressively bouncing herself to a loud messy orgasm that shook her entire body. Her lips left his as she threw her head back in ecstasy, her tail quivering and shaking, her walls pulsating steadily up from his base to his tip. Henry didn’t stop however, forcing her ass up and down, his cock squeezed tight by her walls as he continued to fuck her. The overstimulation made her legs twitch, burying her face against his neck as she whimpered and squirted messily against him. The lewd noises and her firm warm walls literally milked him dry as he held her down firmly against him, his tip pressing against her cervix as thick hot ropes shot forth, filling her up entirely and spilling out onto his boxers. 

  
  


The Az’kel collapsed against him, panting and overheating slightly, something she didn’t know was possible for her race. Henry winced as she moved around slightly, his sensitive member still firmly inside of her, desperately wanting to pull out. The woman began to gently kiss at his cheek and neck however, snuggling up close to him. He moved his hands from her ass and thighs, running his fingers through her soft platinum hair. After a few moments of cooling down and catching her breath, Azrielle gently lifted herself up off of his lap, sitting herself down next to him. She leaned her back against him, grinning from ear to ear as she adjusted her panties, marvelling at just how damp she’d gotten them. 

  
  


“ _You’re_ **_really_ ** _big”_ She commented, feeling herself still stretched out slightly from the lengthy ride. Henry couldn’t help but smirk, knowing if it was far more likely that she was just tight and unaccustomed to such a sensation, but nevertheless allowing the comment to bolster his ego. She leaned her head back, careful not to poke him with her horns, as she asked him a question.

  
  


“ _So how come you got big? Do you make your own serus?”_ She inquired, noting the man’s comparatively blunt teeth and wondering if he had perhaps simply bitten his own tongue to achieve this feat.

  
  


“ _Serus? Oh, right, yeah; venom. No I don’t have any of that. You were rubbing against me and the noises you were making were… well they got me excited so I got hard._ ” He explained shyly, feeling a little silly at having to explain such basic knowledge. She stared at him with wide eyes, her cheeks growing rosy as the implication dawned on her.

  
  


“ _Azrielle made you hard just from looking at her and feeling her?!”_ She asked in astonishment, having never received such flattery before. While it was true she considered herself attractive (despite her petite frame and lackluster height when compared to other Az’kel women) she had worried that the scar upon her face might have rendered her undesirable in the eyes of a male. After all, while the Az’kel men were to be fierce and aggressive, it was the women who were soft and pretty that were the most sought after. That worry left her entirely as she realised just how attractive he must see her, to become erect without her venomous aid. She held his head gently, guiding his lips down to hers once more as the pair shared a loving delicate kiss.

  
  


“ _What was… what did we…”_ She asked timidly, wanting to know what it was called so that she could place a name to the wonderful activity. 

  
  


“ _Oh, it’s called kissing. Do you… do you not do that in the south?”_ He inquired, wondering if perhaps the sharing of meat from their mouths was their equivalent. Azrielle shook her head, renewed heat between her thighs as she thought back on how pleasurable it had been.

  
  


“ _No, but Azrielle_ **_really_ ** _really likes it.”_ She admitted, pulling him down for another tender though slightly deeper kiss, before snuggling down with her head on his lap. Henry felt confident and ready for the day ahead, after all, how could he not be after a start like that? He was already planning out the morning activities: He needed to fill that storage to the brim with logs, feed and check the horses over, maybe even practice a few shots with the crossbow. By then the sun would have sufficiently melted most of last night’s snow and they could begin their journey south. 

  
  


Though he had his heart set firmly on getting her home, and keeping her safe at all costs, at the back of his mind he couldn’t help but wonder what to explore with her next…

  
  


\----

  
  


I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and congratulations to those of you who picked to go north! This week your options are a little bit saucier, as you get to decide what the pair experiment with as they travel south:

A ) Foreplay: from fingers to tongues, there’s a lot more the pair can enjoy each other with.

B ) Different positions: Cowgirl is fun, but Henry can’t help but wonder just how flexible the petite woman is…

C ) Her aphrodisiac: With such a potent sexual stimulant, he wouldn’t mind her using it on him again, or even find out if she can use it on herself....

  
  


Don’t forget, if you would like to vote for the next chapter’s choice (As well as get access to a bunch of story polls and behind the scenes chatter) take a look at my twitter! <https://twitter.com/SmutKnight>

  
  
  



	3. Setting Off

Henry stretched his arms and legs, relieved to find they ached significantly less than the day before. He got to his feet, the Az’kel laying down fully onto the seat as she recovered from their tiring lovemaking session. Henry opened the door a crack, causing Azrielle to shiver as frigid air crept into the interior of the carriage. The sky was still a murky navy colour, with touches of crimson creeping in from the east. The thick blanket of storm clouds had dissipated somewhat, as Henry had expected, and it looked as if it would stop snowing altogether in just a few hours. He closed the door, much to Azrielle’s relief.

  
  


“ _What were you looking at?~”_ She inquired, a sweet and satisfied tone to her voice as she addressed her lover. She felt as if she was practically glowing, still able to feel his heat inside of her. 

  
  


“ _I_ _just wanted to know what time it was. As much as I’d love to go back to sleep I think it’s best we start the day early. After all, it’s a long journey south so a headstart wouldn’t hurt.”_ The woodcutter explained, beaming down at the exotic woman splayed out before him. She nodded in agreement sleepily, a long yawn escaping her lips as she fought to stay awake. 

  
  


“ _Alright so, we know what equipment we have now, that’s a good start. We haven’t got much food left, so we’ll need to sort something out sooner rather than later. I left my fishing gear at the lake and that’s a long way off the track so we can’t easily go get that, besides if I wanted to fish we’d have to stop still for a long time and that’s not ideal…”_ Henry began, Azrielle rubbing her eyes and slowly sitting herself up, smiling in admiration at how practical and thoughtful he was. She placed her hands in her lap, fiddling with the delicate black fabric as she listened intently. 

  
  


_“Now that we have a crossbow, we can definitely go hunting if we ever get the chance. Plenty of deer and hares in these parts.”_ He continued. Azrielle nodded along in complete agreement, despite not knowing what either of those animals were. 

  
  


_“But most importantly we need more firewood to keep you warm, so I think I’ll fill our storage up with firewood while we’re nice and out of the way. That sound good to you Azrielle?”_ He inquired, blushing as he realised the woman was staring at him with adoration in her eyes.

  
  


“ _This sounds very good, yes”_ She cooed, batting her eyelashes at the man and grinning as his cheeks grew steadily more rosy. There was something about her gaze that made his pulse quicken. He suspected it was the intensity of her eyes and the fact she was giving him her complete and undivided attention; though it could just as easily be that he was still unused to being caught in the gaze of a beautiful woman. Noticing the fire was now little more than cinders and ash, he got to his knees and began to stack logs into the firepit. Turning to ask if he could retrieve the flint and steel from below her seat, he noticed something tucked away beneath her tail at the far end of the seat.

  
  


“ _What have you got there?”_ He asked inquisitively, wondering if she’d found something else once belonging to the slavers. The Az’kel turned her head to the side slightly, unsure of what he was referring to. 

  
  


“ _Under your tail, is that a book?”_ Henry asked, amazed at how quickly she sat up straight, moving her tail to hide it completely from sight. She tried to avoid his gaze, grinning sheepishly as her tail end dragged back and forth against the wooden floor. The woodsman raised an eyebrow, wondering what she could possibly have that would get her so defensive. After a tense moment of conflicting feelings, Azrielle relented and scooped the book out from under her tail, holding it shyly in her lap. It was a small ledger bound in leather with a drawstring wrapped tight around the cover holding it closed. Held to the spine by the drawstring was an ornate dark oak pencil. In the top left corner was branded a circular seal depicting two arrows crossed over each other in an ‘X’ shape. Henry was unfamiliar with the symbol but it didn’t take a genius to discern it must be the company’s seal the slavers had belonged to.

  
  


“ _Azrielle found it on the shelf while you were sleeping. Mostly empty so Azrielle is using it as a_ **_memor-vetyal_ ** _”_ The dark-skinned woman explained, quickly realising by Henry’s continued unclear expression that this word was not something he understood. 

  
  


“ _To… to write down thoughts and feelings”_ She elaborated shyly, incredibly self conscious as to what her lover would think of her for doing so. Henry smiled in excitement as he sat beside her, holding his hand out.

  
  


“ _You’re using it as a diary? May I see?”_ The woodcutter asked excitedly, able to count on one hand the number of books he’d read. It was uncommon for men with an occupation such as his to be able to read; usually a luxury reserved for those of inner cities or religious communes. His father had gone through great effort to teach him this skill however, believing the meager collection of books that had been handed down through the family for generations were something his son should be able to cherish and enjoy much like he had. 

  
  


She bit her lip pensively as she thumbed the leather covering, unsure of whether to let even her oovatyal read the contents of the pages. After all, she had intended for this book to be a sanctuary for her thoughts and feelings, somewhere she could express them without worry for what others might think. She looked to her lover’s kind eyes and couldn’t help but smile, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she hesitantly passed him the book. He took the book gratefully, running his fingers along the rough leather covering as he brought the ledger up to his nose. Azrielle watched in fascination as he inhaled deeply through his nose, a grin from ear to ear adorning his face. He turned to the Az’kel, who was looking at him with an almost comical amount of concern.

  
  


“ _Sorry,_ _books all smell the same, it's oddly comforting”_ He explained sheepishly, Azrielle’s expression becoming cheerful at the adorable revelation. She was beginning to discover there was more to this man than his brawn and kindness, and everything new she learned about him made her heart flutter in adoration. She watched as he removed the pencil from the spine, admiring it’s dark lacquer finish. He’d never owned one himself; it was something much more suited to the manager of a workyard needing to keep track of imports and exports than it was someone paid to cut down trees. Carefully, he slid the pencil back under the drawstring. Satisfied that it was properly secured, he handed the book back to Azrielle.

  
  


“ _Did… did you not want to read it?”_ She asked, having prepared herself mentally for him rifling through her innermost thoughts. He chuckled, shaking his head.

  
  


“ _It’s not mine to read, it’s your dia- um…_ **_memor-vetyal_ ** _, that’s something for your eyes only”_ He mused, though he did wonder what sorts of things she had chosen to record so far. She clutched the book to her chest, a thankful smile on her lips as she nodded in agreement, impressed by his use of Az’kel words.

  
  


Henry helped her to her feet as he explained he needed the flint and steel, opening up the underseat storage and taking out the firestarter as well as two sticks of dried meat. He held one out to Azrielle who looked at it hungrily. 

  
  


“ _Fancy some breakfast?”_ He asked, met with incredibly eager nodding from the silver haired woman as her tail rattled out behind her on the floor. He handed her one of the meat sticks and sat down. She looked to the spot next to him on the seat, and then looked at him with longing in her eyes. She looked deeply into the woodcutters eyes as she moved forward and straddled him. He blushed hard, alarmed that she had gotten in the mood again so soon and unsure of whether he would be able to perform given how recently he’d climaxed. The woman didn’t grind against him, however, seeming to just sit facing him as she nibbled away at her jerky.

  
  


Her eyes flitted between the dried salty meat and Henry’s bruised and cut face as she gleefully munched away at her breakfast. Henry ate too, though found it rather hard to concentrate with the woman’s soft thighs pressing on either side of him. Azrielle noticed the minor discomfort on his face, and as she finished off her morning meal she asked what was bothering him.

  
  


“ _Well it’s… this will get some getting used to”_ He admitted, her wide dark green eyes searching his face, her lips moving slightly as she followed along with his words. She smiled warmly at him, ever impressed by his honesty. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle knows maybe she looks strange to you, after all humans looked very strange indeed first time Azrielle saw one! No horns or tail and such strange hair and…”_ Henry shook his head and laughed slightly, apparently having given her the wrong idea.

  
  


“ _No no no you’re fine, I think you look beautiful, even if the tail is a little intimidating… and the horns… but I meant this:”_ As he spoke he gestured to her sitting position, still straddling him. She felt relief wash over her as she realised it was not her looks that were making him uncomfortable. 

  
  


“ **_Oh!_ ** _Is Azrielle your first?~”_ She teased, a sudden sultry tone to her voice as she fluttered her eyelashes at him, a sly smirk on her lips. Henry shook his head, not willing to admit that she was in fact his first just yet, confused as to how she’d come to that conclusion.

  
  


“ _No I just meant you sitting like this, while we eat. That isn’t something people really do”_ He explained. He’d never seen any northern couple, no matter how fond of public displays of affection, having sat like this while they ate. Azrielle bit her lip, realising now why he’d seemed a little distracted. She began to quickly explain herself, not wanting him to assume she was abnormal in her behaviours.

  
  


“ _Sorry! Azrielle did not realise this was not common for your people. When an Az’kel woman claims her Oovatyal; her lover-”_ Azrielle began, Henry’s heart skipping a beat as the word lover left her lips, still scarcely believing she’d chosen him. 

  
  


“ _\- She will sit on him like this to show to others that they are together. It is good for talking and bonding, and easy food sharing...”_ She continued, trailing off a little towards the end, remembering this was not something he had been keen on when she’d tried it before.

  
  


“ _A-and it means you are protected, can use tail to keep us safe while we eat!”_ She quickly added, wanting to move past the food sharing comment. To demonstrate the point she raised her tail and swung it in the air behind her menacingly, careful not to hit the fireplace’s chimney or the walls of the carriage. She chuckled nervously at having to justify herself so fervently, her self consciousness fading away as Henry laughed, finishing the last of his cured meat.

  
  


“ _That’s fine, I actually rather like it. It’s a little intimate but… it’s nice.”_ He admitted, her tail rattling as she gripped his face and kissed his forehead tenderly, before nuzzling her cheek against his. It was her turn to giggle, his stubbly almost spiky facial hair feeling strange against her skin. After a few moments of cuddling and chatting, mostly about how Henry would have preferred bacon and eggs for breakfast and trying to explain what both tasted like to the clueless Az’kel, she dismounted him and he worked on starting the fire back up.

  
  


Satisfied that the small blaze of dried pine needles he’d used as kindling would take to the stacked logs in no time at all, he turned to face the Az’kel who had been scribbling down in her diary while he tended to the flame. He didn’t want to intrude, quickly turning his gaze from the pages, but not before noticing that although her handwriting was incredibly neat he couldn’t recognise a single word. He couldn’t help but smile, knowing she had been so thankful for him not to have read her diary, yet he couldn’t have even if she’d have wanted him to on account of not speaking the Az’kel language. Seeing he was done, she got to her feet and stretched to put it atop the shelf behind her. In doing so, her frilly dress lifted aided by her thick tail, fully exposing her ass to Henry which the lace panties clung to tightly. He tried not to look, but found it hard to take his eyes off of her. Once she’d placed the diary away safely, she turned to Henry bouncing up and down slightly with excitement at finally beginning their journey home.

  
  


Henry thought it best the temperature sensitive Az’kel stay within the warm safety of the carriage. After all even though the sun was steadily rising, it would still be hours before the temperature got above freezing. Azrielle was adamant on accompanying him however, citing concern for his safety in case he came across any deer or hares and needed protection. The woodsman chuckled, but from the way she was shifting about he could tell she was perhaps feeling anxious at being cooped up in the relatively small wagon for so long. He reluctantly agreed, but not before bundling her up tight with the thick woolen blanket over the top of her dress. She couldn’t stop grinning as he wrapped her up, appreciating the touching concern for her well-being. 

  
  


“ _Alright, first of all we need to tend to the horses, there’s plenty of oats and grain but we’ll nee-”_ He opened the door, stopping as he realised Azrielle was not following him outside. He turned to face her, a nervous expression on her face.

  
  


“ _They are gentle, yes?”_ She asked with clear concern. Henry understood her fear, after all the horses were almost twice as tall as she was and he doubted she’d ever interacted with any before.

  
  


“ _Of course they are, they’re very sweet. Do you not have horses in Vastreshi forest?”_ He inquired. The apprehensive woman shook her head as she climbed out of the carriage, standing close behind him. This struck Henry as odd, as he didn’t know of any forests nearby that didn’t harbour wild horses. Nevertheless, he took Azrielle’s hand and slowly walked around to the front of the carriage as the two large horses with their thick shaggy coats covered in snow stood watching them from the far end of the large roofless building. Azrielle squeezed her lover’s hand hard, a nervous squeak escaping her lips as the gentle giants began to trot over slowly. 

  
  


She positioned herself behind the woodcutter, her tail curved up and over her shoulder similar to a scorpion. The horses stopped dead in their tracks as they caught sight of the serpent like appendage hovering menacingly behind the pair, unsure of what to make of it and feeling more nervous by the second. Henry had been around horses frequently in Lampveller, often helping to load wood into horse-drawn carts, and so was able to immediately recognise the animal’s anxiety. He looked over his shoulder, spotting the Az’kel’s tail poised and seemingly ready to strike. One of the horses stamped the snow and let out a whinny, which caused Azrielle to flinch in fear.

  
  


“ _Hey… hey you’re Ok. I think they’re scared of your tail. Could you try lowering it for me?”_ Henry asked calmly, holding his hand up with his palm facing the horses in an attempt to calm them, knowing that if they bolted all hope of heading south would be lost. He could feel Azrielle’s breathing become short and fearful from how close she was pressed up against him. He squeezed her hand gently, keeping his eyes on the horses who chuffed and whinnied once more, ever more alarmed by the ominous hovering appendage. 

  
  


“ _Trust me, just relax, I promise I’d keep you safe but you need to trust me”_ Henry repeated, letting out a relieved sigh as he felt the woman slowly untense, the crisp sound of flattened snow behind him as her tail was lowered onto it. The horses remained where they were, still unsure of the strange horned woman, but seemed visibly more at ease. Henry took a moment to assess the situation, before turning slowly round to the visibly shaken Az’kel. 

  
  


“ _Why don’t you get up into the driver’s seat so you’re nice and safe, and I’ll let you feed them so they know you’re not a threat.”_ He explained softly, prompting a nervous yet affirmative nod from the bundled up woman. He helped her up onto the front of the cart, using his arm to clear it of snow before she sat down. She kept a hold of his hand even as she sat there, shaking like a leaf though he suspected it was not due to the cold. He asked her to hand him an apple and without taking her eyes off of the horses, she rummaged around at her feet until she found the sack full of fruit. She handed him an apple, quickly retracting her hand as she noticed the animals immediately approach the cart. She squeaked again, squeezing his hand hard as one of the beasts sauntered up to Henry and began chomping noisily at the apple in his hands. Henry beamed at the horse, before looking back to Azrielle who had a look of abject horror plastered over her face. He shook his head, knowing that it would be a tough journey if he couldn’t get her accustomed to them. 

  
  


The second horse approached from the side, nibbling playfully at the fur on Henry’s jacket which made him laugh. He asked the Az’kel for another apple, and she held another out for him, though her body was leaning as far as possible in the other direction. He held the apple next to the cart, making the horse move to be adjacent to it, its head next to Azrielle. As the horse chomped away at the crisp near-frozen apple, Henry gently moved her hand which was still in his grasp up to the neck of the beast. Her arm trembled as she was moved towards it, another fearful squeak escaping her lips as the back of her hand rubbed against its thick fur. She found it to be warm and soft, gingerly letting go of Henry’s hand so she could move her fingers through its dense coat.

  
  


It didn’t take long of stroking the steed for the Az’kel to get comfortable with him, both horses seemingly at ease with the woman now that they’d been fed. Henry directed her to the bag of oats and grain, instructing her to hold her hand flat as he poured some of the mix onto her palm. She gasped as the horses gently began to eat from her hand, their unsettling wet tongues causing her to groan in disgust as Henry laughed. After feeding them several more handfuls of the nourishing mixture, albeit from Henry’s hand as Azrielle was much too preoccupied with petting them both to feed them herself, he put the feed away and the horses trotted away satisfied. Azrielle whined as they moved away from her, getting down from the carriage and holding Henry’s hand once more.

  
  


“ _I like them, very big but very soft: gentle friends.”_ She announced, leaning herself against Henry. He leaned down and planted a peck on her forehead, proud of her for her bravery. As the horses lowered their heads and began munching on some fresh snow, he realised they hadn’t named them yet. 

  
  


“ _Would you like to name them?”_ He asked, the Az’kel immediately bouncing in excitement at the prospect as she dragged Henry closer to them. The horses paid no mind to the pair, clearly more interested in snuffling about in the snow. Azrielle looked them both up and down. One of them had a dark grey coat with white fur around its ankles, and the other was a patchwork of oddly shaped black and white splodges. She scrunched her face up, deep in thought as she studied the animals, searching for a fitting name. Her expression changed from excitement, to pensive, then to something Henry could only describe as forlorn. She turned to Henry as she spoke, a suddenly sombre tone to her voice.

  
  


“ _Azrielle wishes to call this one Ohtyl”_ She decided quietly, pointing towards the stallion with the dark grey coat. Her mood had suddenly dropped and Henry didn’t know why. Perhaps that name had some importance to her? Looking at the other horse, he smiled as he thought of a way to cheer her up.

  
  


“ _Do you mind if I name this one? That way we get to name one each”_ He asked quietly, rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand comfortingly. She nodded, though she still seemed disheartened. Henry rubbed his chin as he looked the horse up and down, cracking a smile as he decided on the perfect name for him.

  
  


“ _Henry Junior”_ He announced with conviction, catching Azrielle off guard who looked at him with disbelief. 

  
  


“ _You wish to name the horse as if he were your son?”_ She asked in amazement of his ridiculousness, unable to stop herself from smiling. Henry, relieved for his plan to have worked, nodded confidently with a sly smirk across his lips.

  
  


“ _Yep, he looks just like me”_ He added comically, gesturing to the horse’s face who looked up at him slowly, snow falling messily from his mouth. Azrielle couldn’t help but laugh at his absurd comment, her sweet melodious giggle echoing about the ruined building.

  
  


“ _You are very silly. You are much more handsome than this beast.”_ Azrielle remarked sweetly, leaning her head against his shoulder. Henry turned to the shorter woman, placing his hand delicately beneath her chin, pleased to have cheered her up. He pressed his lips against hers in a tender gentle kiss. Her cheeks turned scarlet as he stood up straight once more, loving how intimate and affectionate being kissed felt. Henry pouted humorously at the patch-work horse, feeling bad for him.

  
  


“ _Well, how about we call him ‘Handsome’ so he can be just like me?”_ He asked; another delightful laugh echoing about the room as the Az’kel nodded in agreement. After a few minutes of Azrielle fussing over her new friends, introducing herself and informing them of their new names, Henry ushered the sun-kissed woman out of the ruined building and into the neighbouring forest. He turned his attention to the old cobbled road as they walked by it, keeping an eye out for any unwanted visitors. The snow lay undisturbed atop it, the blizzard having hidden all signs they had come this way. 

  
  


Henry pulled out his axe and Azrielle watched as he hacked at a large birch tree, felling it in just a few minutes of well-angled blows. Though she was pleased to be outside in the fresh air, her legs were quickly beginning to feel cold and she couldn’t help but tense up everytime a large snowflake landed on her horns. Seeing that she was struggling, Henry decided one tree would be enough for now. He affixed his axe to his belt as he gripped the trunk, ready to drag it. Though his back hurt less, the bruising having gone down slightly from his brawl last night, he still groaned with the effort as he pulled it. He wouldn’t normally fell such a large tree, blaming his choice on trying to impress the woman and get as much fuel as possible in one go. Luckily, Azrielle was keen to help, hooking her strong tail under the trunk and taking most of the weight as they made their way back to the ruins. 

  
  


Noticing that his companion was starting to shiver, wishing they had more weather suitable clothes she could wear, he asked if she could go inside and warm up a little while he worked on delimbing the tree. She seemed hesitant to leave him, but as a strong gust blew between her exposed legs causing a violent shiver up her spine, she relented. Before returning into the cabin however, she gingerly approached Henry and placed a passionate appreciative kiss upon his lips. Her tail curled absentmindedly around them both as her lips lingered against his, not wishing for the moment to end. A fresh shiver rose up her spine causing her to groan softly in defeat, turning and trudging back into the ruins. Henry waited until he heard the carriage door close before he proceeded with delimbing the tree, wanting to know she was safe and warm. 

  
  


It took several minutes for him to saw every last branch off of the tall tree, getting down on his knees as he began to work in the trunk itself. He was vaguely aware of the carriage door opening again and approaching footsteps, turning to face Azrielle who had the crossbow in one hand, his knapsack in the other and a quiver full of bolts hanging from her tail. She placed the knapsack next to him and planted a warm kiss on his forehead, explaining she was warm enough to stay out for a bit and wanted practice with the crossbow. Henry had no objections, even sawing off a thin slice of the trunk for her to use as a target, leaning it against a dilapidated wall forty or so feet away. He thought it best she learned how to defend herself from range in case it was ever needed. Though he had no doubt in her ability as far as close-quarter combat was concerned, given her monstrously sized armour-plated bludgeon currently holding the bolts aloft.

  
  


It took about half an hour for the woodcutter to carve up the tree trunk, even splitting the logs with his axe to make them more manageably sized. In that time Azrielle had loosed a couple dozen bolts, though scarcely any found their way to the target. Halfway through Henry had noticed her hands were shaking from the cold, gifting her his gloves to wear. Even though they were far too big for her, the warmth in her hands seemed to steady her shot and towards the end of her practice she was able to hit the target almost every shot. Henry complimented her accuracy, her tail rattling out happily as she beamed at him. He filled the knapsack up and Azrielle insisted on carrying it inside, coming back twice more before the entirety of the tree had been transported inside. There were too many logs to fit in the underseat storage, so Henry left the final load of wood in the knapsack and sat it between the seat and the fireplace against the wall. 

  
  


Azrielle warmed her horns by the fire as Henry expressed his interest in practicing with the crossbow too. As the sun finally rose fully over the mountain ranges on the horizon, Henry got himself accustomed to the bolt thrower. He had a tough time loading the thing quickly, but supposed such a skill would come with time. Firing half a dozen bolts that all thudded into the wooden disc, he was impressed by his accuracy. He sighed, lowering the crossbow as he walked up to retrieve the bolts. Hitting a stationary target whilst calm was one thing, hitting a moving target under the stress of battle was another. After all, the slaver had missed him when he was barely five feet away and he had undoubtedly had much more practice than Henry had. Pulling the bolts from the wood, he was pleased to see the dark-skinned woman petting and talking to the horses. He’d had enough practice for now, it was time they got on the move. 

  
  


“ _Want to help me settle them into their reigns?”_ Henry asked, an excited nod from his companion as she realised it was time to leave. She looked at her saviour with wide eyes and practically threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

  
  


“ _Thank you.”_ She whispered, standing on her tip-toes to plant several small pecks on his lips, blushing fiercely as she turned to help coax the horses around to the front of the cart. It didn’t take long to get them back in their harnesses and the wheels of the carriage creaked as they shuffled about and got ready to move. Azrielle of course would have to sit in the back while they travelled lest she freeze, something that disappointedly her sorely as she wished to sit and chat with her lover. Not wishing to go without a parting gift, she clambered up onto the driver’s seat and looped her tail around the back of his head, pulling him into a deep and passionate kiss. Her tongue swirled against his eagerly, infatuated with his taste as she struggled to pull herself away. In the end it was the horses who grew impatient, beginning to trot forward which made the Az’kel jump, quickly hurrying down and into the carriage before they picked up speed. 

  
  


Henry used the reigns to guide them out of the dilapidated shell of a building, turning them back onto the cobbled track as they started south. The quiet morning air slowly came to life with intermittent birdsong, the rest of the world beginning to wake up as the last of the snow drifted noiselessly to the ground. Henry couldn’t help but feel as if he were woefully unprepared for the monumental journey ahead of them, despite their large stock of firewood. What would he do if he ran into more slavers? Would they recognise the carriage as one of theirs? Which route would be safest for them to take? Would he be able to keep them both fed? His mind raced and his heart thumped in his chest. 

  
  


As panic began to settle in fully in his mind, gripping the reigns with white-knuckles, he became aware of a soft voice from behind him. Even through the thick wood of the carriage, Azrielle’s pleasant voice was audible, singing to herself. He could not recognise the words as the song was clearly in her language, but the tune was cheerful and her voice delightful. Steadily, anxiety and fear left Henry’s head, focusing on her sweet melody instead. 

  
  


The lumberjack kept his eyes peeled for the cage he’d dragged off to one side of the track, but as they travelled further and further along the old road he realised they must have passed it already. He breathed a sigh of relief. If he hadn’t spotted it while knowing roughly where it was, it was definitely hidden well enough from prying eyes. The horses walked onwards still, the worst of the night’s snow beginning to melt away under the sun’s rays. As they approached the crossroads, Henry looked left along the road towards Lampveller; his home. There were a few other carts and wagons further down the road, undoubtedly people he’d recognise from around town. It felt surreal, how the town to his right continued on, blissfully unaware of the events of yesterday. He breathed a heavy sigh as the cart tumbled over the crossroads and down the southern road, a silent goodbye to the place he’d lived all his life. 

  
  


Their pace was quick, the strong northern horses making short work of the foot deep snow as they continued into the day. This road was busy; the main connection for Lampveller to the more southern cities. They passed plenty of other carriages and people on foot, shooting them a friendly wave as they did so. He wondered what their reaction would be if they knew who was hidden away inside the carriage. He liked to think most northerners were good and kind people, but there were always outliers, like whoever it was that had intended on purchasing her in the first place. Regardless, he didn’t want to stop and found out. 

  
  


The path south carved its way through the boreal forests with almost unwavering directness, scarcely deviating from a straight line save for ancient wooden bridges that crossed fast flowing rivers. This land was still known to him, still familiar. He’d spent a few summers trudging through these rivers with his father, catching salmon and panning for gold. He could still recall the chill of the water through his boots, not wanting to imagine how quickly his passenger would succumb to such bitingly cold conditions. With every passing wagon and cart, Henry checked the driver’s coat nervously. A burgundy tailcoat, with white sleeves; that was the apparel of a slaver. He was relieved to have seen none yet, recalling a time he’d overheard some trying to chat up a barmaid in Lampveller. Apparently the tailcoat was supposed to seem professional, as if their occupation were something to be respected and not simply destroying the lives of men and women for a profit. The burgundy colour was to easily recognise other slavers, after all there must be a fair bit of solidarity among people with such a despicable and frowned upon career. But it was the white sleeves that disgusted him the most. It was supposed to show they had treated the captive humanely, no blood nor muck upon their sleeves. This particular slaver had thought it was a laughable way to appease the buyers, citing how his men would simply roll their sleeves up when handling the ‘livestock’ as he so grotesquely put it. 

  
  


As the sun rose higher in the sky, Henry was pleased with the progress they were making. In the distance a great mountain range came into view, marking the furthest from home he’d ever travelled. There were scarce few ways through this particular chain of peaks, with most opting for the winding mountain pass that connected Lampveller to the first of the large northern cities: Pineholme. The mountain pass itself was incredibly steep and as such the road snaked its way up slowly, making the trek arduous and taking more than a few hours to traverse completely. Thankfully that made this side of the pass a popular location for travellers heading from Pineholme to find some respite before journeying on to their destination, resulting in several inns clustered together at the foot of the mountain range. Henry wondered how much a meal for the both of them would cost, knowing they had seldom any coin to their name. 

  
  


As the day bore on, he began to worry that the woman was perhaps growing too bored on her own cooped up, and grew slightly envious of how warm it must be inside. His nose and cheeks had long since lumbed, having been moving for several hours now, and decided it was time for a lunch break. There was a small path leading off to a slow moving river which must have been a fishing spot for the locals. The woodcutter directed the horses up along this track a ways until he was satisfied they were far enough away from the frequently used road and any prying eyes. As the horses came to a stop, he fed them both an apple for their hard work, thanking them for working so hard for him. He knocked against the door, not wanting to surprise her. 

  
  


“ _It’s only me, can I come in?”_ Henry asked, immediately feeling ridiculous for asking such a question. Much to his delight however, Azrielle opened the door quickly and pulled him inside. He found himself becoming fully enveloped in the woman’s tail as it curled around them both, the Az’kel standing on her tip-toes as she kissed him over and over. Feeling how cold his face was, she ushered him down onto the seat closest to the fire, straddling him immediately and leaning herself against him. Even though he was wearing his coat, he could feel her breasts pressing against him from beneath her dress sparking a flicker of excitement in his trousers. 

  
  


“ _You are not too cold? How far have we travelled? Are Handsome and Ohtyl ok?”_ She rattled off question after question in rapid succession, scarcely giving the man a moment to actually answer. Sensing she was a tad overwhelmed and must have missed him, he gripped her face tenderly in his hands as he spoke softly and calmly.

  
  


“ _It’s cold out there but you’re warming me up plenty. In another few hours we’ll be at the base of the Stickleback mountains, where I’ll try find us somewhere to rest up for the night. The horses are fine, they tell me they’re glad to be moving again.”_ Henry remarked, kissing her reassuringly on her forehead, but failing to quell her excitement. 

  
  


“ _The horses can talk?”_ She asked in astonishment, feeling a little offended that they had not spoken to her when she had greeted them earlier in the day. Henry chuckled, explaining he was joking, prompting an onslaught of kisses from the disgruntled woman. She wasted no time in removing his coat, hat and gloves, asking him all kinds of questions about how their journey had gone so far. She carefully inspected the bandages covering the wound on his arm as he told her all about the busy road, and that it was mostly just trees and rivers until they passed the mountain range. Her tail rattled at the word river, explaining how the Az’kel sourced their water from the mountains and that water flowing freely through the land was astonishing to her. Henry smiled, wordlessly fetching the blanket and draping it around her as he opened one of the carriage doors.

  
  


Azrielle’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the bright daylight outside, staring in wonder at the wide sleepy river just outside. She tugged Henry outside, with Henry keeping an eye out for unwanted attention as she knelt beside the river bank. There were small chunks of ice that drifted by, fragments of large undisturbed glaciers to the far north. She reached out to feel the water against her hand, gasping sharply at how cold it was. Henry stood beside her, his heart beating in his chest as he urged her to move back slightly, petrified she might fall in. As the cage she’d been in had been covered for most of the journey, she hadn’t had the opportunity to see much of these northern lands. She thought it was beautiful.

  
  


“ _Azrielle wishes she could sit and watch the water for hours”_ She sighed, already beginning to feel the cold getting to her. Henry put a warm arm around her shoulder, pointing to a larger chunk of ice almost the size of their carriage as it tumbled it’s way downstream. She wished the folks back home could see this, they’d never believe there was so much ice in the world! The longer she looked at the shifting mass of frozen water, it’s iridescent surface catching the sun’s rays, the colder she felt. Reluctantly she re-entered the wagon, comforted by the warmth of the crackling fire. 

  
  


The pair sat together in front of the fire as they munched their cured meat. Henry was hoping they’d find something else to eat soon, getting rather sick of the salty provision. Azrielle however couldn’t seem to get enough, all manner of satisfied noises escaping her lips between each bite. She sat sideways on his lap, facing out of the open door so she could watch the flowing water. Henry finished before she did, noticing the Az’kel was on her third meat stick whereas he’d been content with one. He admired the wonder in her eyes, wishing he could be so infatuated with something that seemed so mundane to him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close as they watched another large chunk of ice float by. This chunk was jagged and oddly shaped, and the pair watched as it hit a shallow spot in the river and cracked loudly, splintering into dozens of smaller ice chunks. Azrielle jumped as this happened, but soon realised she was safe from harm where she sat and so her tail rattled out in awe of the spectacle. 

  
  


After finishing up her meal, taking a few tender moments to just enjoy her Oovatyal’s warmth as she sat on his lap nuzzling her cheek against his, the pair got up and got ready to move once more. Azrielle insisted on being the one to feed the horses more of their feed as Henry refilled their waterskins in the river. As he listened to her talk to the animals warmly, he noticed she was talking to Ohtyl in Az’kel and Handsome in Human. He couldn’t help but grin, wondering if the horses had a preference. Regardless, they had certainly seemed to warm up to her and one of them even prodded and licked at her horns curiously which made the exotic woman laugh and playfully tell him off. Henry stood for a while just admiring the gorgeous woman, beaming at her as she turned to face him.

  
  


“ _We are good to go now, yes? Will make it to Stickyblack mountains before dark?”_ The Az’kel asked, approaching him and standing uncomfortably close, looking up at him with her emerald eyes. 

  
  


“ _Stickleback mountains-”_ He corrected, prompting a sheepish smile from his lover. “ _And yes we’re good to go, we’ll make it there in four or so hours. Not long at all. Have you made sure the horses are well fed?”_ He teased, amused by how quickly she’d gone from fearing them to doting over the gentle giants. Azrielle nodded enthusiastically, smiling back over her shoulder at them. 

  
  


“ _Handsome is very strong and wise, Ohtyl is taller and thinks he knows best even though he is fussy eater.”_ Azrielle concluded, apparently having got a good read on the animal’s personalities in the few minutes she’d been tending to them. “ _Azrielle also ask them to behave for their_ ** _pateryl_** _''_ She explained, looking up lovingly at the fur-clad man. Henry opened his mouth to ask what ‘ _Pateryl’_ meant, only to find her lips against his as she earnestly kissed him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her tongue moving against his slowly and passionately, needing one last kiss to satisfy her before being apart for a few more hours. Henry moved to lift her slightly, enjoying the kiss. He gripped the back of her bare thighs as he hoisted her upwards so her head was level with his. Reminded of her weighty tail, his hand slipped slightly so it was cupping her ass, feeling the lace material of her panties against his fingers. He squeezed her ass gently, unable to help himself, prompting a soft moan from the petite woman. 

  
  


Knowing that they could very easily get carried away, and that it was best they make it to the mountain pass before it got too dark, the woodcutter reluctantly lowered her to the ground. He spent a moment admiring her enchantingly pretty face. From her smooth caramel skin, to her long dark eyelashes, her plump pillowy lips and those rich green eyes. He leaned downwards, kissing her gently once more, before ushering her back into the carriage so they could get moving again. She unenthusiastically made her way back inside, waving sweetly at him before closing the door. 

  
  


The time seemed to pass quickly for Henry as they continued along the southern road. He couldn’t keep his mind off of her, thoroughly smitten by the exotic woman. He played with the possibility of trying to sneak her into a room in one of the inns, after all she could probably hide her tail beneath a blanket. But then again, there wasn’t much to be done to hide her horns. He frowned, unsure that they’d even be able to afford a room anyway, deciding it best to spend what little money they had on supplies. As the sun began to set, the steady smoke plumes of the taverns and inns at the foot of the mountain guided him forward. It was just how he’d remembered it from his childhood: A large clearing with several large log buildings on either side of the main road and all manner of horse drawn carriages dotted between them. He maneuvered the wagon round the back of one of the far buildings, on the very edge of the treeline to try and draw as little attention as possible.

  
  


Henry told Azrielle where they were, letting her step outside briefly to gaze up in awe at the snow covered behemoth before them; the lanterns of the various carriages moving up and down them illuminating the serpentine path winding up its side. She quickly retreated to the warmth of the carriage, not wishing to get spotted and finding it hard to bear the cold night air now that the sun had disappeared behind the distant mountains to the west. The lumberjack lead Handsome and Ohtyl over to a large sheltered stable, tying them to a post with a large trough full of hay to dine on. He thanked them for taking them so far today, and getting a strange look from another man tying up his horses, he bashfully left the stable and headed to the nearest Inn. 

  
  


The atmosphere inside was jolly and raucous, with merchants and travellers already getting merry. At the bar men sought companions for the evening and ale for their bellies, jostling and joking with one another which Henry had to fight to be heard over. Chatting to the Innkeeper, a middle aged woman with frizzy red hair scarcely contained in a bun, he negotiated what his meager coin purse could get him. After some less than successful haggling, he managed to get a large haunch of smoked ham, two sacks of potatoes, a sack full of oats, a sack of onions and even a slab of smoked bacon. Pleased with his haul, hoping that these provisions would keep them going for a while, he headed back with his goods stacked up in his arms with the ham balancing precariously on top. 

  
  


Henry called out to her as he approached, the Az’kel opening the door swiftly and sticking her head out, wondering as to why he was shouting. Seeing that he was struggling with so many items, she braved the cold to lend a hand, using her tail to hook around the sacks of produce as they hurried inside. He placed the bundle of food on top of the seat, catching his breath as he began to explain what he’d bought. Azrielle licked her lips, salivating slightly as she smelt what was hidden beneath the butchers paper. She turned to face Henry, excitement in her eyes.

  
  


“ _You said you hadn’t tried bacon, so I got you some to try”_ He revealed, grabbing the sizable hunk of meat and unwrapping it for his companion to see. She sniffed the air hungrily at the salty smoky smell, her tail rattling out louder than he’d heard it before. Henry showed her the rest of the food, though her attention was focused solely on the bacon and the ham. He decided to fry up some of the bacon alongside some chopped potatoes, thoroughly amused by the ravenously hungry Azrielle who stood watching the meat cook, seemingly unable to comprehend how good it smelled. He had trouble getting her to sit down so he could plate their meals, and no sooner had he placed the plate on her lap than a rasher of bacon had been stuffed into her mouth. She moaned audibly, something not dissimilar to the noises she’d made whilst climaxing earlier which caused Henry to blush as he sat himself down. 

  
  


Try as she might to savour the rich smoked flavour of the meat, her hunger got the best of her and she found herself having finished all of her meat before Henry had eaten a single rasher. He encouraged her to try the sliced potatoes, which she did hesitantly. Her joyous expression turned to disgust as she chewed the potato piece which turned to mush in her mouth. She turned to look at Henry, forcing herself to swallow with a sorrowful expression on her face. Henry couldn’t help but laugh, reminded of a fussy child being forced to eat their vegetables. He asked if she liked it, trying to stifle his laughter, to which the Az’kel shook her head fervently. In the end, he ended up giving her half of his bacon in exchange for the remainder of her potato slices, a trade that under normal circumstances Henry would be bitterly opposed to. He figured it was worth it just to see the pure unbridled bliss on her face that came with every bite. 

  
  


Once their meal was done and the frying pan and plates scrubbed clean with fresh snow, Henry sat himself down and found the Az’kel nuzzling into him almost immediately. She sat with her back against his side, her tail hanging over the edge of the seat curled up in front of the fire and her legs outstretched. They chatted about the day, how far they’d travelled, and whether or not Henry Junior was an acceptable name for a horse. Henry was trying to explain what a pig was and what part of it was bacon when he noticed Azrielle beaming up at him, a different kind of hunger in her eyes. 

  
  


She reached up with one hand, tenderly guiding his lips down to hers, her horns pressing against his shoulder as she tilted her head back to kiss him. The kissing was gentle at first, a few loving pecks interspaced by her wonderful warm smile, but quickly grew deeper and more passionate. Their tongues danced and moved against each other, both partners finding the kiss very quickly turning them on. Azrielle moaned into the kiss, breaking it for a moment leaving a strand of saliva connecting their lips as she shifted her legs. She brought her knee up, accidentally moving the dress so that it was folded backwards revealing her thighs and her panties beneath. She went to move, ready to straddle her partner but found herself being stopped by Henry’s firm hand, keeping her sat up against him. She tilted her head back to look up at him, closing one eye and gasping as she felt his hand move between her thighs.

  
  


The Az’kel quivered and moaned, arching her back against him as his fingers moved against the fabric of her panties. He rubbed his fingers back and forth, excited to find the fabric damp and spurred on by her lustful noises. After just a few moments their lips were locked once more, Azrielle plunging her tongue deeply into his mouth as he continued to pleasure her. Growing bolder and more turned on by the minute, his fingers ventured underneath the decorative lace fabric and moved against the slick wet warmth of her entrance. Azrielle trembled more, her breathing growing heavy and panting as she broke the kiss, finding herself close to climaxing already. He spread her lips with his fingers, Azrielle clutching at his shirt with her hands as she anticipated him entering her. 

  
  


He slipped his middle and index finger inside of her, her tight walls seeming to throb and hug his digits tight. He pushed further up into her, hooking his fingers upwards slightly following the advice of an old friend, delighted to find the Az’kel moaning louder than before. She trembled and arched her back as he moved his fingers inside of her, her tail shimmering as she threw her head back in ecstasy, coating his hand in her hot messy nectar. Her horns impacted his shoulder hard as she threw her head back, but Henry was far too occupied with the mess coating his fingers to care. As her chest rose and fell, he found his gaze drawn to her bust. He used his free hand to pull at the straps of her dress till they fell over her shoulders, tugging gingerly at the top of her dress. Though she was still coming down from her climax, this action seemed strange to her. Nevertheless, eager to explore, she helped her lover by lowering her dress over her breasts.

  
  


Her perky breasts sprung forth into the warm air of the carriage, immediately intensifying the excitement within Henry’s trousers. He gripped one eagerly in his hand, it’s soft spherical shape slightly bigger than his grasp. He squeezed it gently, prompting a pleasured whimper from Azrielle who had never had her breasts handled before. He noticed how hard her nipple was, gently catching it between his thumb and forefinger as her tail rattled out. She bit her lip, grinding her hips against his hand that continued to rub her entrance while the other explored her breasts. He squeezed and pulled at her nipple gently, prompting all manner of lewd noises from the sun-kissed woman as her trembling frame struggled to contain the pleasure of such a new experience. Feeling her entrance practically dripping against his fingers as he rubbed her, he decided to try something he’d always wanted to do. He gripped her shoulders, a symphony of whines at the abrupt lack of attention as he positioned her with her back against the backrest. 

  
  


He lowered himself off of the seat, getting to his knees in front of Azrielle. She gazed at him longingly, an intense lustful hunger in her eyes, expecting him to pounce on her and ravage her at any moment. Instead, he gripped her legs, firmly spreading them and moving between them as he pulled her panties off. She bit her lip as his fingers touched her sensitive inner thighs, her pussy still quivering and steadily leaking her juices, as it ached for more attention. He lowered his head and she realised what he was about to do a split second before he did it. She closed her eyes and turned her head, anxiety filling her body. Was he going to use his tongue? But she was all messy and wet, what if he didn’t like her taste? Was this normal for humans or… 

  
  


_“_ **_MMnnnh O-oohh~_ ** _”_ The Az’kel moaned out, a spike of pleasure shooting through her as his tongue met her clit. He swirled the tip of his tongue around her lovebud, flicking it back and forth which made his lover moan and whimper, her thighs tensing and untensing. It didn’t take long for her legs to make their way onto his shoulders, crossing against his back and squeezing his head between her thighs as she climaxed a second time. Henry couldn’t control himself any longer, needing to taste her for himself. His tongue glided downwards across her labia, gently parting them as he slipped his tongue inside of her. She panted and covered her eyes with her hands, embarrassed at the noises he was getting her to make and feeling light headed from being made to orgasm twice in quick succession. As he lapped her nectar up, he found himself salivating at her taste. She tasted sweet, her juices tasting almost exactly like honey as he greedily swallowed a mouthful of her mess. 

  
  


Wanting to taste as much of her as possible, he moved his hands under her thighs to her ass, lifting her up towards him to find a better angle for his tongue. The experience of being manhandled was new to her, finding it exciting to have such a strong man caress her in such a way. She rocked her hips against his face, the hot heat of his tongue steadily making it’s way further and deeper into her honeypot. She struggled to think straight, the overstimulation of her walls making her body twitch and tense with every movement of his tongue. Knowing he was tasting her felt wrong, like it was something for her to feel shameful for. Yet the noises of satisfaction he was making as he eagerly lapped up her nectar made her heart burn with excitement at the taboo nature of it. 

  
  


As his grip tightened against her ass cheeks, she found herself pinching her nipple with one hand just as he had, using the other to roughly grip his hair as he continued to eat her out. Her body shook and she called out his name as she climaxed a third and final time, her back arching as she squirted heated messy nectar into his awaiting mouth. She tapped his back with her foot as she lay half off of the cushioned seat, having to practically pry his face from between her legs. The woodcutter relented, apologising sheepishly as he helped her back on to the seat, his face slick with her clear juices. Azrielle was exhausted, but she wanted her oovatyal to finish properly alongside her. She used her tail to push him forward into her, her lips making their way to his as a rush of embarrassment shot through her realising she could taste herself upon his lips. She fought the urge, but found herself succumbing to lust as her tongue moved eagerly into his mouth, his tongue coated in her nectar. She wanted to dislike it, after all it was her own mess, but the sweet flavour had her salivating as she fumbled with his belt and unbuckled his trousers. 

  
  


As soon as her trousers were undone, she practically tore at his trousers, wrapping her legs around his waist and forcing his throbbing cock inside of her. It slipped in easily, her walls well and truly lubed from how hard she’d climaxed. From this angle with him on top of her, Henry felt himself bottom out before he was able to push his entire length inside of her, the dull ache of his cock hitting her cervix causing her to muffle a whimper into the kiss. He placed one hand on her thigh and the other on her breast as he thrust himself into her repeatedly, noticing her tail was pulling him into her much more than he was thrusting. Azrielle found herself sucking at his tongue, desperate to taste as much of her mess as possible, a dull yet pleasurable ache in her stomach from his manhood pounding against her cervix. The kiss grew messier and sloppier as they lost themselves in the passion, saliva dripping messily from her chin down onto her breasts. 

  
  


Henry felt himself nearing his climax, pushing his member as deep up inside of the petite Az’kel as he could, finding himself biting down on her neck as he came. Thick hot ropes of come shot forcefully against her cervix, filling the exhausted woman up near instantly, a flood of excess mess dripping messily on to the floor below as he emptied himself inside of her. He practically collapsed on top of her, his legs having been at an uncomfortable angle and promptly given out the moment his head had cleared. Azrielle stroked his forehead tenderly as she felt herself growing sleepy from the thick heat inside of her, having never climaxed so many times in one evening before. 

  
  


“ _So… tired…”_ She managed, unwilling to uncross her legs and release her lover, quite content to feel asleep with his cock inside of her and his body being used as a blanket. Henry groaned in agreement, tapping her thighs and having her reluctantly release him and allow him to pull out. He watched his thick seed steadily leak out of her, and in a moment of clarity he moved her dress out of the way and sat her up so he could lift if off of her, not wishing to stain her only dress. There Azrielle sat completely naked, beginning to doze off as sweat glistened against her caramel skin. Henry scooped the sleepy woman up into his arms, lying down with her on top of him. Her head was resting on his chest, her horns to the side of his head as she looked up at him with loving tired eyes. 

  
  


“ _That was… you made me… three times”_ She struggled with her words, Henry having to shush the sleepy woman as he kissed her forehead tenderly, content that his body heat and the heat of the fire would keep her more than warm enough for them both to sleep comfortably. He kept one arm over her, holding her tight as she slipped into slumber atop him, using his other arm to rest his head as he looked into the fire. They’d gotten enough food to last them for a few days, and enough wood to last them another week or so, but they still didn’t have a real direction once they’d crossed through the mountain pass. He began weighing up his options, deciding where best to take her before he found himself drifting slowly into a deeply pleasant sleep.

  
  


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I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and congratulations to those supporters who voted for exploring other ways to please Azrielle through foreplay!

There are **TWO** decisions for supporters ready for this week:

(Remember, you can support the story and vote, as well as getting access to additional goodies by checking out my twitter! <https://twitter.com/SmutKnight> <3)

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How should the pair explore each other in the next chapter?

  1. Foreplay Part 2: Azrielle has experienced what Henry can do with his hands and mouth, she’s very curious to see what she can do for him.  
  

  2. Azrielle’s aphrodisiac: With such a potent sexual stimulant, he wouldn’t mind her using it on him again, or even find out if she can use it on herself....  
  

  3. Multiple sex positions: Henry can’t help but wonder just how flexible the petite woman is...



\------

Which route should the pair head once they pass over the Stickleback mountains?  
  


  1. Travel directly south through the city of Pineholme: A large settlement built around geothermal hot springs. Regarded as the capital of the north and home to the wealthy and elite.  
  

  2. Travel southwest through sparsely populated valleys: Sure to be plenty of firewood, animals for hunting and a lack of prying eyes. The land is wild and untamed, which may present its own challenges.  
  

  3. Travel southeast along the coast: It will be bitterly cold, with most of the land uninhabited save for a few traditional fishing villages. But with flat terrain there’s no faster way south.




	4. To Lands Unknown

Henry’s deep blissful slumber came to a startling halt as a cry reverberated off the carriage walls. He sat up quickly, groggy and discombobulated, raising his fists in a defensive stance. As he quickly wiped the sleep from his eyes, a melodic giggle assured him that everything was fine. With his vision still half blurred he could just about make out the shape of Azrielle, cooking something atop the fireplace. As he sat himself up properly, stretching his legs and continuing to rub his eyes, he realised with a smile that she was still completely nude. Glancing down he realised he was too, feeling a tad self conscious but quickly finding himself distracted as Azrielle yelped once more. She hissed in frustration at the frying pan as she took a step back, scowling and sucking her finger while she waved a spatula about in the other hand.

  
  


“ _Did you hurt yourself?”_ Henry asked with concern, trying and failing to stifle a yawn as his body continued to struggle to wake up fully. Azrielle nodded, her cheeks dark with embarrassment and frustration as she continued to suck on her fingertip. She removed the finger long enough to speak, a hiss like sizzle sounding out from the frying pan as she did so.

  
  


“ _Azrielle is cooking bacon for her oovatyal but it keeps spitting and burning!”_ She exclaimed in frustration, hissing back defiantly at the sputtering slabs of meat. Henry sighed with a tired smile upon his face as he got to his feet, walking behind the Az’kel and wrapping his arms around her waist. He leaned down slightly to press his face next to hers, kissing her cheek gently as he peered into the frying pan. What once was a bemused smirk turned into hearty laughter as he saw what it was she was cooking. 

  
  


The rashers of bacon themselves looked to be coming along nicely, if cut a little too thick. What tickled the woodcutter however was the half of an onion sizzling alongside it. Azrielle pouted at him as he tried to contain his laughter, squeezing her tummy slightly as he held her close. He took the spatula from her hand gently, placing it in the frying pan as he placed himself between her and the spitting meat and began to put his clothes on. As he wiped a tear from his eye, Azrielle crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her tail against the floorboards expectantly.

  
  


“ _What is the funny?”_ The sun-kissed woman asked, beginning to feel self conscious about her cooking abilities. Henry shook his head, not wanting to start today off on the wrong foot.

  
  


“ _First of all, thank you for trying to cook us some breakfast, that was very sweet of you”_ Henry complimented in a gentle tone of voice that made Azrielle feel like she might melt. Her tail rattled out loudly and she beamed with pride at him, placing her hands on her hips. She had wanted to give something back to the compassionate man taking her into his care, and to prove to him that she was not completely useless. So far from home and struggling to adapt to a strange new culture and living situation had been rough on her self confidence, having sorely taken for granted how consistent her life was before her capture. Nevertheless, never one to shy away from a challenge, she desired to learn these new skills like cooking and using the crossbow to the best of her ability. 

  
  


“ _You are very welcome, handsome”_ Azrielle cooed back, lifting her tail and using the arrowhead tip to playfully brush under his chin. “ _How did I do?”_ She asked eagerly, standing on her tiptoes and craning her neck to look over his shoulder, gazing with hungry eyes at the glistening meat. With his trousers and shirt on, he felt adequately protected from any potential splashes of heated grease and so began to gently stir and flip the bacon about to ensure an even cook. This was evidently not something the Az’kel had been doing, as one side was beginning to look more like charcoal than it was bacon. Azrielle wrapped her arms about his waist, her breasts pressing firmly against his back as she leaned forward to watch his movements. Her tongue was sticking out slightly from between her lips, the cooking process capturing her complete attention. 

  
  


“ _So the meat needs to be flipped so it cooks evenly on both sides, otherwise it gets a little black and burnt like this, see?”_ Henry explained, squinting slightly as the meat hissed and spat a splattering of heated fat onto his wrist, which he quickly brushed aside. Azrielle hissed back, though much quieter than when she’d done it in frustration, cracking a smile at her own silliness. Henry grimaced from the slight burn, smiling once more as his companion hissed, prodding her lightly with his elbow to ensure she’d understood him. 

  
  


“ _Got it, yes. But why does it spit? Very fighty for food!”_ She surmised, shying away from the pan as Henry pressed the bacon down with the spatula causing a fresh burst of heated water and oils. Azrielle acted fast, raising her thick armoured tail up and around the lumberjack, protecting him from the scalding liquids. Henry flinched as the colossal shape moved with surprising speed in front of him, raising an eyebrow as Azrielle seemed to not react to her tail being sprayed with hot juices. He patted her tail reassuringly, getting her to move it aside so that he could keep cooking.

  
  


“ _Well, it’s got a lot of fat and water in it which when it gets hot goes all bubbly and… well everywhere if you’re not careful. So… no cooking this naked from now on, Ok Azrielle?”_ He added with a smirk, prompting a blushing but understanding nod from the petite woman who still seemed to be completely comfortable stood without clothing. Henry paused for a moment, thinking of how best to address the onion in the room as Azrielle used her tail end to prod at and attempt to flip the steadily sizzling meat.

  
  


“ _So… hmm. Want me to show you how my father used to make me onions? There’s an extra special secret technique to cooking them kept only for the Embers’ household_.” He began, scooping the half an onion up and out of the pan onto the plate sat beside it she had used to cut the onion in half in the first place. He looked at Azrielle out of the corner of his eye, thankful to see her expression full of excitement and wonder rather than bashful at her mistake, just as he had hoped. She studied his movements carefully as he picked up the cooking knife and set to work dicing the vegetable. As he chopped, he handed the spatula to the eager woman to allow her to tend to the bacon as he worked, having her put on his coat to protect her from the worst of the spitting. 

  
  


After dicing the onion and praising Azrielle on her careful bacon flipping, he dumped the fistfull of onion chunks into the frying pan producing an almighty sizzle. As he lifted and stirred the pan waiting for the onions to brown, he got the excitable woman to sit down safe from any stray splashes, thanking her once more for preparing this meal for them. They chatted back and forth about how she hadn’t done too badly for her first time cooking, and how amazing bacon tasted, noticing the woman practically drooling as she inhaled the intoxicating smell deeply through her nostrils. After what felt like hours of eager anticipation for the Az’kel, but a measly 15 minutes for the considerably more patient cook, he plated their meals and sat down next to the horned woman. 

  
  


Azrielle made a conscious effort to eat less ravenously than before, her tail practically vibrating as she slowly made her way through the first crisp rasher. It was significantly crunchier than last night’s serving, making a mental note to cook it for less time tomorrow morning and impress Henry with her newly obtained cooking skills. Henry watched her plate closely as he himself tucked into his breakfast, noticing her picking the bacon out from between the onion pieces. He shook his head with a smirk, wondering if he should even bother cooking her vegetables in the future. Regardless, the joy this humble meal brought her was satisfying in itself, and he’d cook her all the bacon in the world if it meant being able to see that sweet smile of hers every morning. Henry noticed something was not quite right, and it wasn’t until his third piece of bacon that the abnormality dawned on him. 

  
  


“ _How come you’re not straddling me?”_ He inquired, a sudden blush appearing on his partner’s face. 

  
  


“ _Henry said that it was ‘different’ so… Azrielle doesn't want to make you uncomfortable”_ She admitted shyly, wanting to try her hardest to adapt to the strange human customs presented to her. Henry however, felt the complete opposite way. Anything she could do to make herself feel more at ease and instill some semblance of normality was something he wanted to encourage. Besides, he was beginning to grow fond of the intimacy and wasn’t about to say no to having her thighs around him once more. He held out his hand for her to take, shooting her a warm smile. She took it gladly, and was pulled gently onto his lap where they finished their breakfast facing one another.

  
  


After clearing up and making sure the fire was properly fuelled, sparing a few moments to convince Azrielle to put her dress back on, Henry decided it was about time they set off for the day. Cautiously opening the door, he was pleased to find it still early morning. There was little in the way of noise beyond the chirp of songbirds and creak of trees on the wind, accompanied by the quiet babble of some nearby stream that had not audible the night before due to the bustle and merriment of the traders staying here. Checking that the coast was clear, he took Azrielle by the hand and let her stretch her legs and take in their surroundings. She gazed up in awe at the towering mound of tree-covered rock before them, having to crane her neck to attempt to see the peak due to their proximity to the mountain itself. _Stickleback mountains_ , she repeated to herself quietly. 

  
  


There were mountains near her home, so the large looming shape was not something new for her. However the peaks surrounding her here were foreign to her, cold and inhospitable, dotted with pine trees and thick snow in equal measures. These were nothing at all like the comforting orange-red shapes that dotted the horizon back home. The sheer size and steepness of the incline before her began to make her feel dizzy and her heart beat fast, so she turned her attention from the scenery to the carts and carriages dotted around the gravel clearing. Most of them it seemed were empty, their owners undoubtedly having spent the night at one of the numerous squat inns that dotted the base of the mountain. A few of the larger carts did have wistful streams of smoke escaping them however, signalling that the owners may very much still be inside. Beginning to feel acquainted with her surroundings, the Az’kel woman rounded the front of the carriage and a spike of panic pierced her chest as she saw that the horses were missing. 

  
  


For a brief moment she was ready to take off and hunt for the gentle giants, before remembering that Henry had taken them someplace safe the night before. She breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back towards Henry who was crouched in the snow just beside the treeline that marked the start of the mountain. She approached slowly, hugging the blanket close to her body with her powerful tail. He had taken the knife from his belt and dug into the snow slightly with it, and seemed to be cutting at something partially buried beneath the snow. 

  
  


“ _What is it you have found?”_ Azrielle asked curiously, wondering if perhaps he had located some animal or another in the brief moment she had explored the outside of the carriage. Henry looked over his shoulder at her with the biggest grin she’d yet seen from the rather stoic woodcutter, beckoning her over quickly with a few waves of his hand. Her excitement peaked, she trotted hurriedly through the powdered snow and gingerly crouched beside him, her eyes wide with wonder and curiosity. She watched as he severed the stem of some long frozen plant, previously buried beneath the snow, holding the ice-like stem in his hands. It looked to be some kind of flower, with eight pear shaped buds each about the size of a chestnut. Azrielle watched in fascination as Henry carefully removed each of these frozen buds from the plant and held them in the palm of his hand as he grinned at them.

  
  


“ _Do you know what these are?”_ He asked excitedly, taking one of his gloves off and passing it to Azrielle to put on, not wanting to hand her them to look at without her wearing one due to how blisteringly cold they were. She put the glove on as he gently placed them in her hand. She pressed one between her fingers and was surprised to find it as hard as rock. 

  
  


“ _No, we do not have these in Vastreshi forest”_ Azrielle informed, holding the dark green frozen buds up to her nose and sniffing them cautiously, finding no discernible scent beyond the musty smell of the leather she was wearing. Henry beamed at her, overjoyed to have found something so special to share with her. 

  
  


“ _These plants are rare they-”_

_“Rare?”_

_“They uh… they are hard to find”_

_“Oh! Rare, Ok~”_

_“These are called Bastard-blooms, in the fleeting warmer months these flowers open up to reveal large iridescent petals that look like someone dipped them in lantern oil. The name however, comes from the fierce barbs that sprout along the stem, embedding themselves into any exposed skin foolish enough to brush up against them. You can either tear the plant off or leave it to wilt for a day before it detaches itself on its own. In anycase, they sting like a bastard and so they got their name!”_ Henry explained, chuckling to himself as he realised how much he sounded like his father who had explained this very thing to him many years ago. Azrielle now seemed apprehensive about holding the flower buds however, eagerly placing them back into Henry’s hand. 

  
  


_“Azrielle has never seen a flower before, it sounds colourful and very special, yes”_ Azrielle remarked, trying her hardest to picture what these dull green rock-like sprouts might look like once fully grown. She sighed, shivering as the cold began to get to her, wishing she had been here in the warmer months to see them bloom for herself. Henry beamed at her, placing a warm arm around her as he stood up and began walking her back to the carriage. He pocketed the flower buds, not wanting them to warm up in the toasty interior and spoil the surprise. 

  
  


“ _I’ll show you what they look like later when we stop for lunch, does that sound good?”_ Henry asked slyly, an immediate excited gasp from the Az’kel as she wrapped her arms around his waist, wondering how he was going to get the flowers to bloom. Though she pestered him for an explanation, not wanting to wait to find out, Henry kept his secret safe wanting to surprise her once they’d gotten somewhere more private and less risky. Azrielle sat herself down and retrieved her diary, beginning to scribble and sketch in the ledger as Henry excused himself to go and gather the horses. 

  
  


Entering the stable it dawned on him that keeping the horses well fed might be harder than he’d supposed. As long as they were in the north the ground would be frozen and snow covered, leaving little in the way of vegetation for them to graze upon. He assumed there would be better grazing grounds to the south, though that didn’t exactly help them if he couldn’t keep them fed till they got there. As he approached Ohtyl and Handsome, both lifting their heads in acknowledgement of his presence, he noticed a younger man restocking their troughs with hay. He was a little taller than the woodcutter, adorned in the telltale acne and patchy facial hair of youth. Judging by his size, he might have just found a solution to his problem.

  
  


“ _Hey there mate, could I ask you something?”_ Henry inquired, eyeing the large stack of hay near the entrance of the stable. The younger man seemed caught off guard by someone else being in the stable so early, sheepishly thumbing his overalls as he stepped toward Henry.

  
  


“ _Uh… I guess?”_ He muttered, a cracking inconsistent tone to his voice, as if on the fringe of slipping into the lower tones one would expect from a man rather than a child. He wore burlap-like overalls with a moth-eaten tan coloured shirt beneath, with the bottom of the overalls severely frayed through overuse. _Perfect_ , Henry thought to himself.

  
  


“ _Yeah I was wondering how much for a bale of hay? Do you sell them here?”_ Henry asked, patting Ohtyl reassuringly as he began to untie his reins from the post they were fastened to. The teenager rubbed his chin as he mulled the question over.

  
  


“ _I’d uh… I’d probably have to ask…”_ He remarked, turning to look towards the closest inn, dreading the thought of having to go and wake up his mother so early with a question he should probably already know the answer to. Henry nodded his head, holding both horses by the reins.

  
  


“ _Oh yeah I totally get that. Gotta ask the bossman, right? Well, how about I save you the trouble and offer you a trade I think you’ll find more than fair.”_ Henry asked, trying his best to sound sincere and not come across as some kind of swindler or conman. The teenager looked him up and down for a moment, his eyebrows raised as he seemed to mull something over. 

  
  


“ _I’m uh... I’m into women, sir.”_ The teenager sheepishly replied, shifting on his feet a little. Henry looked back at him puzzled, swiftly shaking his head and apologising, the teen clearly having mistaken him as propositioning him.

  
  


“ _No, not that! I am too- into women I mean b-but anyway I uh… I meant clothes! Just… wait there and I’ll go get them!”_ Henry managed, glowing red in the face and turning with his horses and leading them back to the carriage. Tying them up and popping his head through the door to let Azrielle know they were back and to hand him the slaver’s spare clothes. He kissed her tenderly on the cheek before heading back, leaving her wondering why his cheeks had been so beet red. The stable hand, who was now beginning to sweep some of the muck out of the main walkway, leaned on the handle of his broomstick as he saw Henry approached.

  
  


“ _I had these spare clothes lying around, brother of mine passed away a few weeks back and they don’t fit me so I’ve been meaning to get rid of them.”_ He held the clothes out towards the teen, who took them and began to look over the three pairs of trousers and three smart white linen shirts.

  
  


“ _They’re… they’re all different sizes”_ The stable hand remarked, shooting Henry an inquisitive look as he began holding the shirts up to his chest to see how well they’d fit. 

  
  


“ _Yes well some of them are a bit older from when he was still growing so…”_

_“... he got the exact same style every time? These are all identical”_

“ _Yeah well, he knew what he liked I guess!”_

_“Hm. Maybe a tad fancy for my tastes…”_ The teen remarked, having never owned clothing remotely similar in style let alone of the same high quality material as these. 

“ _Ah but fancy is good! You wear that around here and the ladies will know you’re important, good for getting attention if you know what I’m saying”_ Henry pressed, never having been very good at bartering and really just wanting to get rid of them and get going. The teenager nodded slowly, not wishing to admit that he was in fact into men, but that battered and bruised looking mid twenties men weren’t exactly his type. 

  
  


“ _Yeah I guess, I could let you take four hay bales for one of these pairs but… well the other two don’t fit me so...”_ He tried to hand the two remaining pairs back, but Henry held his hands up and shook his head.

  
  


“ _You keep them, I’m sure you’ve got some brothers or friends who might like them. That or you could even trade them yourself, I’m sure there’s plenty of folks passing through here that could use an extra change of clothes.”_ Henry urged, not wanting to have them lying around the carriage taking up space and bringing back bad memories. Nor did he want the hassle of trying to trade them away again in the future. They shook on it, and despite the young man’s insistence of helping him, Henry slowly brought the hay bales back one at a time by himself to the outside of the carriage. Enlisting Azrielle’s help, her strong tail able to make light work of the large rectangular blocks of horse feed, the bales were lifted up onto the roof of the cart. A decorative wooden trim along the top of the cart meant that the bales were held nicely in place, so he didn’t have to worry about them falling off anytime soon. 

  
  


Before they could leave however, the spritely Az’kel insisted on giving their steeds some fuss. Henry kept a lookout for her, ensuring no prying eyes might spot her, unsure as to how most here might react to her kind. Meanwhile, with both horses now comfortable around the strange horned woman, they were more than happy for her to pet their thick shaggy manes. Henry made the mistake of mentioning that horses could be ridden as well as used to pull carts, and subsequently had to promise that when they got south he’d teach her how to ride one. He’d tried explaining that a saddle, stirrups and other equipment were needed and that though he’d ridden one once before, he was far from an expert. Azrielle seemed optimistic that they would be able to source some however, admitting that her fellow Az’kel likely lacked the equipment as she’d never seen a horse in their lands, let alone with someone riding one. Satisfied that she had now properly caught up with the horses, she retreated back into the warm interior, pulling Henry in for one last passionate kiss before they set off. 

  
  


Climbing up into the rider’s seat, it was surprisingly hard work to navigate through the countless parked carts back and get back on to the main road, an unfortunate byproduct of having set up camp so far back in the lot and staying out of view. Nevertheless, as the sun began to rise up over the distant mountains, they began their ascent. For Azrielle this was exciting indeed, with every lurch and turn of the cart carrying her closer to home. For Henry the ordeal was as terrifying as it was disheartening. The lane snaking its way up the mountainside was wide enough for a steady stream of carts to be heading down at the same time as those heading up, but only just. There were more than a few times when Henry was sure the well flattened dirt would crumble away, sending the cart careening off of the steep rise and into the trees far below, though thankfully no such thing happened. It was disheartening for a different reason however, he watched as the land he’d known and grown up in got further and further from view, edging nearer and nearer the summit where he would enter lands completely unknown to him. 

  
  


Was he really prepared for the journey ahead? Was there not someone more well travelled that could aid her in his stead? Was there even anyone he could trust to perform such a task? He felt panic begin to set in to his chest, gripping the reins with white knuckles once more as he rounded the last turn before cresting the mountain. Turning one last time to look out over the land below them, he noticed in the very distance two little bumps on the horizon that marked the town of Lampveller: his home. For a moment his eyes focused on the distant mounds and he found himself yearning for the quiet familiarity of his cabin. He ached for his bed, his usual drinking spot, even the mundane routine of heading out with his axe to fell a few trees. It took a moment to rouse himself from the homesickness clouding his mind, even as they reached the zenith of the Stickleback mountain range, the land before them coming into view as they began their descent. 

  
  


To his surprise, these lands unfamiliar to him looked much the same as those he’d come from. There was still snow covering most of the landscape, still the same tall pines, still the same fresh morning air. The similarity helped to quell his fears of unpreparedness, realising that it would still be some time before they left the familiar boreal forests and mountainous region of the north, and that he would have plenty of time until then to acclimatize to life on the road. Besides, he had made a promise to his passenger: his oovatyal. Realising there were no other carts on the strait of this portion of the descent, he knocked hard on the wall of the cart behind him. 

  
  


“ _Hey, if you peak your head outside you can have a look at where we’re going, we’re at the very top now”_ Henry remarked, hearing an excited rattle from her tail as she made her way to the doors and gingerly creaked one open. She gazed in awe at the landscape below them. The land had a soft amber glow courtesy of the rising sun and thick reflective blanket of snow, with bright shimmering rivers that carved through the land. Directly in front of her, albeit a few miles away, was a thick plume of what looked to be steam. Squinting, she was able to pick out sizable buildings with roads leading in and out of the large looking settlement.

  
  


“ _What’s with all the_ ** _ignal-aq’wey_** _?”_ Azrielle asked, followed by an immediate frustrated grunt as she tried to think of the correct word for it but realised she didn’t know it in human-tongue just yet.

  
  


“ _All of the uh… fire water? Warm water smoke? Mmm…”_ She flailed her arms about, certain humans must have a word for it.

  
  


“ _You mean the steam?”_ Henry asked, a delighted gasp from the Az’kel behind him followed by her whispering the word ‘steam’ repeatedly to herself, committing it to memory. 

  
  


“ _Well, I’ve not been there before but that’s the city of Pineholme. That’s actually where my dad was from. He said there’s lots of heated water from deep underground that bubbles up to the surface there. Right in the middle is a big old lake of the stuff, with houses on stilts sat above it so they’re heated all year long.”_ Henry continued for a while relaying what he knew of the ‘capital of the north’, that it was a commerce centre where most large businesses operated from, and that though the lands to the far south were far wealthier, this was where the wealthiest of the north lived. All the while Azrielle listened intently and watched the enormous iridescent steam cloud with wonder.

  
  


“ _Does Henry think maybe Az’kel could live there? Would maybe be warm enough?”_ The curious woman inquired, looking down the mountain side and beginning to experience some vertigo at how steep the descent was. Henry scratched his chin as he thought of what to say. He had heard rumours of some wealthy individuals keeping Az’kel as slaves as a form of status symbol, a piece of living art to flaunt and parade about. He grimaced, wondering if perhaps whoever had intended on purchasing Azrielle in Lampveller had gotten the idea after visiting Pineholme. 

  
  


“ _I think it could be possible, maybe. It’s still awful cold even with a house close to the steam. You’d have to have someone like me to go out and fetch things for you!”_ He joked, wanting to keep the conversation light. Azrielle giggled, rather fancying the idea of being tucked away in some sauna-like abode and sending people out to fetch tasty things for her. 

  
  


“ _I have you already, silly~”_ Azrielle teased, her tail rattling as she was once again reminded of just how lucky she was to have him as her oovatyal. 

  
  


“ _And what is that way?”_ Azrielle asked, sticking her tail out of the door and moving it nearer to Henry, gesturing with the tip to the far east. 

  
  


“ _That’s where the land meets the sea, according to that map of yours.”_ Henry began, the tail disappearing as Azrielle darted towards the under seat storage, retrieving the map and poking her head out of the door once more. 

  
  


“ _Yes yes it is the… Azrielle cannot read the name”_ She admitted sheepishly, realising that written Human was much more difficult to understand than spoken Human. 

  
  


“ _It’s the Frost-gouged coast, bordering the waveless sea. Know why they call it that?”_ Henry asked, leaning over to look around the side of the cart and smiling as he watched the dark skinned woman shake her head from side to side. 

  
  


“ _They call it that because it’s almost always frozen, and when the tide comes in big chunks of ice crash into the cliff sides and take bits of it with them. Merchants sometimes travel along the cliffs at the top from what I’ve heard, so it must be a fairly popular trade route.”_ Henry explained, Azrielle craning her neck and squinting in the hopes of spotting the sea on the horizon to no avail. 

  
  


“ _Even bigger ice chunks than the one we saw?”_ Azrielle asked quizzically, receiving a chuckle from the wood cutter. 

  
  


“ _Yep, even bigger than that. I’m told there are some as big as entire towns!”_ Henry remarked, an astounded gasp escaping his companion’s lips, struggling to imagine such huge ice formations. After a moment or two of looking back down at the map in her hands, she looked towards the front of the wagon towards the far western horizon, the distant foggy shapes of mountains much taller than this one faintly visible.

  
  


“ _And over there?”_ She asked inquisitively, seeing nothing but mountains on the map.

  
  


“ _Those are the ‘Peaks of promise’ as folks around here call them, though they’re unnamed on that map of yours I noticed.”_ Henry remarked, raising an eyebrow as he anticipated a question, which Azrielle quickly shot back at him with.

  
  


_“Why are they called that? Do they promise things?”_ Azrielle asked, seemingly completely serious given her sincere tone of voice. 

  
  


“ _Well… no. Not deliberately, anyway. From what I know of them from one of the books I’ve read, a few generations back there was a great expedition mounted by men all over the north to prospect and explore the peaks with the promise of metal and gemstones in abundance. This was all after some traveller said a mountain there blew its top and ejected it’s innards which were pure steel.”_ Henry explained, wishing he could have brought the book with him, having not read it in a while and being a little iffy on the details. 

  
  


“ _Steel? That is a uh… oh! Steel, yes.”_ Azrielle began, prompting Henry to hold out the blade of his knife for her to see, anticipating that this word may be new to her. “ _And did the men find many steel and gemstones?”_ Azrielle asked curiously, wondering what was so special about stones. 

  
  


“ _Well, sort of. From what I remember of the book they did actually find this exploded mountain, with its guts of steel strewn all about the place. In fact, my father told me that my axe was made from some of that metal and that so were most of the tools in town. However in the years after that steel supply ran dry, many men spent decades toiling away and digging into the sides of the surrounding mountains, disappointed to find only rock and hardships. So that’s how they got the name, people sought them out for the promise of riches, though found those promises empty.”_ Henry continued, not knowing how much of this was historically accurate and how much was embellished just for the sake of an entertaining read. Azrielle bit her lip as she looked nervously down at the mountain they were currently on top of.

  
  


“ _Azrielle hopes this mountain does not exploded…”_ She commented nervously, leaning out slightly to look further down the winding track. Upon seeing a cart round the corner and start moving towards them, she quickly closed the door and retreated back into the interior of the carriage.

  
  


By the time the pair had made it to the bottom of the southern side of the mountain, it was almost midday. Unlike the northern side of the Stickleback ridge, there were no inns or trade posts here, just one large gravel road leading south towards Pineholme. However Henry was still unsure as to the best route to take, and therefore opted to guide the horses off of the main road and parked amongst the conifer trees. He eagerly jumped down from the driver’s seat to stretch his legs, treating the horses to a midday snack of an apple each, before catching up with Azrielle. After letting her know where they were and that they would only be stopping for a few moments, he got out the map and laid it out on the floor. He knelt next to it, with Azrielle doing the same and leaning her head against Henry’s shoulder which caused him to wince slightly, reminded that she had bruised it with her horns during last night’s love making session.

  
  


“ _Ok so, to head south our only options really are to head straight through the big city of Pineholme, travel down and along the coast, or to make our way through the peaks of promise following this river here”_ He explained, pointing at a large winding river carving it’s way through the massive spine-like row of mountains. “ _I was thinking personally that we should follow that river, as I don’t know that many people at all live over there and… well… it means you would be able to ride up front with me.”_ Henry admitted, blushing slightly as the woman’s tail immediately rattled out in elation at the thought. 

  
  


“ _So is safe_ ** _and_** _Azrielle gets to spend more time with her oovatyal? This sounds like the best option, yes.”_ Azrielle decided confidently. Despite her curiosity as to the houses on stilts above steam-filled basins and ice chunks so big you could build a town on them; she knew she wouldn’t have been able to see much of either from inside the carriage. 

  
  


“ _Good, I was leaning towards that option too. I’ll start taking us west then, I might not be able to find a track so it might get a bit bumpy. Once we’re safe enough away I’ll boil up some water and we can see to getting you ready to ride up front with me”_ Henry reassured, Azrielle nuzzling against his arm and nodding eagerly, planting a tender kiss against his cheek. 

  
  


Henry climbed back up to the rider’s seat and travelled further south down the road. After an hour or so of travel, beginning to doubt there was a path leading towards the mountains and that they might have to travel offroad, he eventually happened upon one. It was extremely narrow, with dried pine needles and snow covering it completely. In fact, he might have just mistaken it for a gap in the trees were it not for a squat weather worn sign labelled ‘Peaks ‘o promise’.

  
  


Heading down the winding snow covered track, he began to feel as if he were just perusing through the forest itself as none of the track was actually visible. It became immediately apparent that this trail had long since fallen into disuse as after only half an hour or so they came across a large fallen cedar tree completely blocking the path forward. He sighed, a nibble of anxiety beginning to brew at the back of his mind as they had travelled further and further from civilisation. _Well, I guess this is as good a spot as any to stop,_ he pondered, finding his legs to be shaking slightly as he climbed down from the cart and glanced nervously about at the empty snow covered forest. He’d never been so far from people, even when out felling trees he knew that if anything went wrong there would be people to help close by soon enough. But out here, he wasn’t so sure. Upon opening the carriage door and immediately feeling his partner’s arms around him however, his anxieties seemed to wash away, accompanied by feeling beginning to return to his extremities as he entered the warm interior. 

  
  


“ _Alright so, there’s a tree blocking our way that I’ll probably need your help to move since you’re much stronger than I am”_ Henry commented, a proud ever so slightly smug smile appearing on the Az’kel’s lips as she nodded knowingly. “ _But before that, we need to boil up some water. Could you pass me that big pot we have?”_ Henry asked, a questioning but excited look on her face as she quickly bent down to open up the storage space. Try as he might, the lumberjack’s eyes were drawn to the woman’s shapely rear, fully exposed beneath the frilly cut of her dress lifted by her thick tail. Though she had indulged him in wearing her dress earlier, rather than remaining nude all day, she had apparently neglected to also wear her panties. As of this moment however, the man had no complaints, blissfully unaware of the sun-kissed woman smirking as she spied him watching her out of the corner of her eye. 

  
  


After a needlessly long time rummaging, swaying her hips from side to side subtly enough so as to not arouse suspicion that she knew what he was up to but enough to put on a show, she stood back up with the large brass pot in her hand. Henry thanked her, holding it conspicuously in front of his trousers as he leaned down to kiss her forehead, stepping outside to quickly fill it with fresh fallen snow. He set it atop the fireplace where the snow began to melt immediately. Rather than just sit idly while they waited, he asked if she was ready to move the tree, receiving an enthusiastic nod as he helped her to bundle herself up in her blanket. Leading her outside, Azrielle twirled around looking with wonder at the quiet forest surrounding them.

  
  


“ _It is so peaceful here! This is a very good place, yes.”_ Azrielle concluded, smiling sweetly at Henry who could no longer remember why he had ever felt fearful here. 

  
  


“ _It’s nice, isn’t it. Apart from this pesky tree”_ Henry joked, kicking snow towards the problematic lumber blocking their path. 

  
  


“ _How are we doing for firewood?”_ Henry asked, fiddling with the buckle securing his axe to his belt. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle has used half of Henry’s bag, still plenty of logs left from our wood hunting~”_ Azrielle cooed, taking great pride in having helped Henry to collect yesterday’s lumber, enjoying being able to help where she could.

  
  


“ _No need to chop this one up then. You are spared the axe today, my friend”_ Henry continued, patting the fallen tree with a playful smirk causing a bubbly melodic giggle from the Az’kel, who was now leaned against Ohtyl who seemed to chuff in response to the delightful sound. She brought a hand up out of the blanket to pat his side gently, leaning in as she spoke to him, keeping her eyes on Henry.

  
  


“ _Your Pateryl is very silly, yes”_ She informed the horse, who in response turned his head to nibble playfully at her blanket. 

  
  


“ _Pateryl? You’ve said that before but I didn’t get the chance to ask what it means.”_ Henry admitted, his cheeks growing a little rosier than from cold alone, recalling how he had been silenced with a kiss the last time he had asked. Azrielle walked away from the horses and towards Henry, standing uncomfortably as always, looking up at him with her wide emerald eyes as she spoke.

  
  


“ _It means father, Henry is a good father to his horse children, yes.”_ She teased, using her tail to wrap around the taller man and pull him into a gentle hug, preferring to keep her arms nice and warm tucked inside her blanket where they were safe from the wind. 

  
  


“ _What does that make you then?”_ Henry asked, raising a curious eyebrow at the sun-kissed woman. Azrielle smirked, enjoying the interest he showed in learning her language. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle is their_ ** _Materyl_** _, mother. Is similar, yes?”_ She chimed sweetly, standing on her tiptoes to get her face closer to Henry’s. It was odd to him that though their respective languages sounded so different at first, there certainly did seem to be similarities between the two. However, this was merely an afterthought. At the forefront of his mind was how sensual she sounded speaking her mother tongue, how she would roll the ‘r’ sounds and give every word a flourish of passion. Given their situation he tried not to dwell on it, but the confidence with which she spoke and the exotic nature of the sounds leaving her mouth made him just a little crazy for her. Azrielle turned to look over her shoulder at the horses, laughing before turning back to Henry.

  
  


“ _Actually, Handsome is definitely your son more than mine, yes.”_ She remarked, unable to wipe a playful smirk from her lips as she spoke. The woodcutter looked up from the beauty before him and laughed hard as Handsome came into view; currently stood with his tongue hanging dumbly from the side of his mouth as he stared at the two of them. 

  
  


_“That’s just cruel, don’t be mean to my child like that! He’s much better looking than his da-... than his pateryl”_ Henry shot back jovially, his lover’s tail rattling out as he opted to use the Az’kel term, finding himself playfully prodded in the ribs by her tail tip as she planted a gentle kiss upon his cheek.

  
  


“ _Let us move this tree then, so that our children may continue their walk!”_ Azrielle insisted, taking position near the middle of the trunk, beginning to feel the cold against her unprotected horns. Henry leapt over the fallen tree, gripping the trunk with both hands and beginning to lift. He was pleased to find his back complained significantly less than the day before, finally beginning to heal from his scuffle. Though he strained and struggled to lift the tree, Azrielle seemed completely unphased as her tail effortlessly lifted the tree and aided him in moving it to the side enough for the cart to pass. Setting it down with a dull snow muffled thud, Azrielle rattled her tail in celebration and skipped over to Handsome telling him how they had cleared the way for them. Henry suspected it was much more her handiwork than it was his however, shaking his head as Handsome nibbled gently on one of her horns whilst making an odd snorting sound. Henry decided something was not right with that horse, even if Azrielle seemed to adore him nonetheless. 

  
  


Over the next few minutes, Henry ferried armful after armful of snow into the carriage and into the pot, until they had a bubbling pot full of boiling water. Azrielle watched the water with slight concern, never having had a need to boil water in her homeland. Henry wrapped one arm around her waist, squeezing her gently in anticipation of her reaction to what he had in store for her. He took the still frozen flower buds from his coat pocket, holding them above the water and dropping them in one by one. The Az’kel watched in astonishment as the flowers slowly unfurled into floating star-like shapes of iridescent red. She bounced on the spot slightly, curling her tail around Henry’s leg as she gripped his top with her hands. 

  
  


“ _So pretty! Did Henry trick them to think it was warm weather with the water?”_ The excitable woman inquired, prompting an affirmative nod from her lover, even though he thought her phrasing was a little odd. 

  
  


“ _That’s not the best part though, just you wait”_ Henry teased, an excited shimmering of her heavy armour plates making his leg tingle as if from pins and needles. He managed to get the fascinated woman to sit down as he retrieved the last of the tough meat sticks, handing her four and keeping two for himself. This was the first time since he’d met her that her attention was not on the meat she was eating, instead eyeing the splendorous multi-coloured petals bobbing about in the simmering water as the water itself began to steadily darken into a rich crimson colour. A pleasant smell similar to cinnamon and peppermint filled the interior of the carriage, with Henry adding a few pinches of sugar from the assorted spices and seasonings they’d been fortunate enough to find.

  
  


As Azrielle finished up her tough sticks of jerky, Henry asked for her waterskin. He emptied its contents outside before filling it up with the flowery still-steaming tea. He handed it back to his oovatyal, warning her to take care as it was still piping hot, advising her to sip it slowly. The Az’kel took a moment to just appreciate the alluring scent emanating from the peach coloured liquid, watching in fascination as some of the iridescent shine of the flowers now shimmered on the surface of the brew. For Henry the flask was much too hot to hold for very long at all lest he burn himself, but for the desert dwelling woman the heat was pleasant and comforting. With his encouragement, eager to see what she’d make of it, she took a tentative sip.

  
  


Her tail rattled out almost immediately, a satisfied noise of contentment sounding out from her mouth as the comforting brew met her tongue. For someone who had spent her whole life eating the same food, with the occasional dried fish for celebrations, the taste was near indescribable. Henry however, having tasted a wider array of foodstuffs than his carnivorous partner, had a nice nickname for it he found rather fitting.

  
  


“ _We used to call it the ‘bakery in a cup’ back home, it’s sweet and a little gingery, with hints of cinnamon and vanilla and…”_ Henry trailed off, watching the woman clutch the waterskin against her chest before taking a large swig and moaning sensually as she did so. Her tail rattled out once more causing Henry to grin, surprised to find her excitement for the tea to be very close to that of her tasting bacon for the first time.

  
  


_“This is so good! Azrielle likes this bakery in a cup_ ** _very_** _much!”_ She chimed, nuzzling up against Henry with the flask between them, enjoying the combined warmth as she sipped at it eagerly once more.

  
  


_“Just ‘tea’ is probably easier, but I’m glad you like it! So, you can keep that one with you to drink from while we travel and then this one...”_ Henry continued, lifting his own flask which was now full to the brim with the dark sweet tasting tea. “ _This one you can keep under your blanket to keep you nice and warm while you travel up front with me. Sound good?”_ He inquired, prompting fervent nodding from his lover in response. After taking the time to bundle her up once more in her thick linen blanket, placing the fur pelt atop the driver’s seat for her to sit on and getting her to wear Henry’s gloves after some insistence; she was sat up at the front of the carriage alongside her lover for the first time in their journey. 

  
  


With one flask wrapped close against her bosom and the other nestled between them both, even the steady flurry of snowflakes landing upon her horns was not enough to to make her feel the cold. Seeing her excitement, and wanting to help to teach her new skills, Henry passed her the reins and helped her to drive the cart forward as it trundled along the snow covered trail. Soon enough though and the fast learning woman was able to manage by herself, allowing Henry to keep a close eye out for any sign of danger or civilisation. Other than the sound of wheels and hooves against snow, a distant woodpecker and the babble of some unseen stream nearby, their voices were the only sounds in this pleasantly quiet forest. 

  
  


The pair found themselves talking constantly, relieved to finally be able to spend a good chunk of time together. Azrielle always had something new she wanted to know about Henry, showing particular interest in the books he’d read and the history of his town and heritage. As far as heritage went he had little of note to tell her other than that his family had owned his squat log cabin for at least 4 generations and were among some of the first settlers to the north. Henry found there was strikingly little to say about a town centered around logging, hunting and the occasional coal mine as far as history went. Her interest became clear to him however as she revealed that in her home village she was their scribe, a position she seemed incredibly proud of and was pleased to find Henry was interested in. She explained that it fell to her to keep track of things of note, whether that be weather, deaths and births, skirmishes and duels, or even just observations about village life. Henry reasoned that this was undoubtedly why her handwriting was so neat, and sheepishly admitted that he himself was terrible at writing and had scarce little practice beyond scratching out his name on parchment when registering himself at a lumberyard. Azrielle kissed him tenderly on the cheek, promising to teach him to write as neat as she did some day. 

  
  


As they travelled further and further along the path, the distant peaks of promise became gradually less distant, and it began to look as if they may even reach the river winding its way throughout them by nightfall. Despite the occasional fallen tree blocking their path, which Azrielle was more than capable of handling deftly and seemingly effortlessly with her monstrous tail, they were making good time. The Az’kel seemed to be enjoying her proximity to her lover more thoroughly than the scenery however, having shifted herself several times until finally settling: sat sideways with her legs over Henry’s lap. Her tail hung lazily behind her off of the cart, the tip dragging along the snow and occasionally flicking upwards sending a splash of snow into the treeline. It was when one such haphazard snowball impacted something with a dull metallic thud, that both of them sat up straight in alarm. Henry took the reins and guided the horses to a complete stop, peering into the forest but seeing nothing obvious that could have made such a sound.

  
  


Deciding to investigate, the pair climbed off of the cart with Henry keeping his hand on the hilt of his hunting knife. Azrielle clung to his back with one hand and to her hot water bottle with the other; her tail hovered up over his shoulder protectively, much like a scorpion’s tail ready to strike. As they gingerly stepped off of the path and into the treeline, Henry spotted the rusted bulk of some upturned metallic cart, smattered with snow and facing away from them. He’d seen metal transports such as these before coming to and from one of the smaller mines near Lampveller, he assumed they were probably preferable to the wooden variety as they could support vastly more weight and needed little maintenance. Rounding the cart which they now realised was standing up on it’s side, Henry guessed this was some long lost relic from the rush to mine these mountains many years ago.

  
  


Though Henry was content to leave the wreck where it lay, conscious of time and wanting to at least find the river before sundown, Azrielle began to curiously root around in the ankle deep snow just beyond the upturned cart with her tail. It took a matter of moments before her tail contacted something heavy, bending down and using her gloved hand to shovel snow off of the concealed object. As she brushed the snow away, the powder in direct contact with the object turned a dirty looking mud brown, mimicking the rusted lump it had settled upon. Henry crouched down beside her, looking the object over. Sure enough, it was a roughly oblong shaped hunk of twisted metal, smooth in some places and jagged and gnarled in others. 

  
  


“ _Well would you look at that, I guess that old story had some truth to it because I’m willing to bet this is a chunk of that mountain that blew its top!”_ Henry marvelled, childlike wonder in his voice as he scraped more snow off of the boulder-like hunk of warped metal to get a closer look at it. Though he was far from an expert on mining and metal work, it seemed oddly processed to him. From what he’d seen of the occasional wagon full of metallic ores in town, they usually looked more like rocks than they did lumps of metal. But there were no rocks at all on this bulky mass, seemingly just the same abrasive orange-red metal all the way through. Azrielle ran the tip of her tail against it, tracing strange vein-like raised tracks that ran across its surface. Truth be told it reminded her of home a little, having a strikingly similar hue to the cluster of mountains near her village. 

  
  


Though Henry wished to keep a piece of this strange lump of rust and history, after spending a few moments rooting through the snow for a smaller piece, he eventually gave up and decided it was best they move on despite his child-like excitement. As they got back onto the cart and got moving once more, Azrielle seemed to cuddle him much closer than before. She was still talkative though her voice was noticeably a little quieter now, the encounter having left her somewhat homesick. Henry could sense this subtle shift in her demeanor and so tried his best to carry the conversation, telling her all about the birds they spotted darting amongst the trees and other wildlife that roamed these lands. Azrielle seemed particularly taken by the description of the snow bear he had once seen, brought into town as a hunting trophy from some nobleman and his group. Henry had lost count of the arrows embedded in it’s shoulders and face, wondering how any creature could suffer so much damage and keep moving. Even though Henry described it’s claws as being the size of his axe head, and it’s body over twice his height, Azrielle seemed sure that she would be able to fend off such a threat if she needed to.

  
  


Honestly, despite her petite frame, Henry was inclined to believe her. The more he learned of her curious race and exotic culture, the more it sounded like fighting was a way of life for them. Though the way she described battles between Az’kel, she made it sound like it was an act of great grace and encapsulating beauty, viewed less as senseless violence and more like an art form. She had to emphasize several times to the woodcutter however that though such fights were very real, they were never intended to seriously injure or even kill, even between members of different settlements. There seemed to be a kinship between Az’kel that Henry knew was not always the case between his fellow man, getting the sense that despite their fearsome appearance this strange race had a much greater sense of community than his own people.

  
  


That sense of community and respect for the life of one another was only extended as far as their own people, however. Azrielle explained, uncharacteristically looking away from her lover as she spoke, how anyone or anything that encroached on their territory was met with the uninhibited fury of their tails. She rubbed her arm slightly, ashamed of what she had thought of humans up until recently, trying hard not to think of how her community might react to Henry should they ever make it back in one piece. Silence lingered about them for a few minutes, Azrielle trying to figure out how she was going to approach that problem when she came to it, and Henry struggling to find the right words to say to cheer up the silently frowning woman.

  
  


As the sun began to set, they had begun to pass by the first of the mountains making up the peaks of promise, flanked on the opposite side by the stickleback mountains they had passed over earlier in the day, they found themselves in a valley steadily curving southwards. As the pair discussed what they were going to have for dinner, Azrielle snuggled extra close to Henry as the heat of her water bottle began to fade, the Az’kel heard a familiar noise. Shooting up with excitement, she pointed just past the treeline where a large chunk of ice was steadily floating along a wide fast flowing river. 

  
  


“ _There, Azrielle has found the river!”_ She announced with pride, her tail shimmering and clattering against the wood of the cart which spooked the horses slightly, shaking their heads and chuffing with disapproval. Before Henry could stop her, she had hopped off of the moving cart and dashed inside of it, reappearing once more with the map held against her chest using her powerful tail to aid her jump back into the rider’s seat. After studying the map intensely for a moment, the track beginning to move closer to and follow the direction of the south flowing river, she placed her finger where she guessed they were. 

  
  


“ _This river does not have a name? Should Azrielle name it?”_ She asked energetically, using her tail to hold the blanket closer against her body, feeling the cold more so now after momentarily experiencing the pleasant warmth of the wagon’s interior for the first time in many hours. 

  
  


“ _Sure, though it might already have a name locally and whoever made the map just didn’t know it”_ Henry explained, not knowing a lake let alone a sizable river in the north to not have a name and subsequent story explaining its name. His personal favourite of the local bodies of water was “Dead-cow bog” so called because, low and behold, there was the skeleton of a dead bovine resting at the bottom of the shallow muddy body of water. He chuckled to himself, prompting the dark-skinned woman to shoot him a suspicious look before continuing to study the water pensively. By now there was only a single layer of one or two trees between the track and the free flowing water beside them, allowing a fairly clear view of the icy estuary. 

  
  


After bouncing a few names off of Henry, with notable mentions such as “ _Azrielle’s cold river”, “Ice river” and “Azrielle and her Oovatyal’s secret icy stream of water”,_ Henry had to insist she take the time to sleep on it before deciding, unable to stop himself from laughing at the adorably silly suggestions. With the sun beginning to dip below the towering mountains that now surrounded them almost completely, Henry decided they had made enough progress for today, daring not to risk travel in the dark so close to the river. Finding a suitable spot along the path to set up shop, there was little worry in Henry’s mind of encountering any traffic on this small disused lane if the numerous fallen trees were anything to go off of. As Henry tied the horses to a nearby tree close enough to the river for them to drink, he placed down one of the hay bales for them to chow down on. They neighed appreciatively, with Handsome bumping sideways into the woodcutter, though whether through affection or idiocy it was near impossible to tell. Meanwhile, Azrielle had been eager to retreat to the comforting warmth of the carriage and equally eager to demonstrate her improved cooking skills. 

  
  


As Henry entered the cart he was greeted to the smell of frying onion and potatoes, both diced into tiny cubes just like he had shown her. She had also sliced a few servings of ham from the large haunch, though Henry suspected perhaps she had already helped herself to some, though he hardly blamed her. She certainly had an appetite, concluding that it must take a lot out of her to swing that enormous tail of hers around. Regardless, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her all across her cheek and neck to show his appreciation, before taking out the small rack of spices and showing her how he would normally season his potatoes. In the end she had gotten a tad carried away with the paprika and pepper flakes causing the spice to be a little overwhelming, leaving him teary eyes and coughing slightly. The tender salted ham went thoroughly appreciated by the Az’kel and her new found seasonings too; experimenting with each of the spices and herbs they had to test out what accompanied the meat best. For someone who had never cooked or even seasoned her food before, she was incredibly eager to try new things, even trying sugar on the pinkish meat (despite Henry’s protests). 

  
  


Regardless, after clearing up and settling in to relax and sharing the last flask of now pleasantly cool tea between them, their spirits were high. Travelling had proven to be fairly stressful, but they were learning as they went and found comfort in each other's company. Azrielle in particular was utterly smitten by her companion, falling steadily further and further in love with the rugged yet gentle man with every passing minute. The same was true for the wood cutter of course, though being substantially more introverted than his feisty companion, he was more reserved about showing it. Azrielle took up position upon Henry’s lap as she always did when craving intimacy, holding his face delicately in her soft hands as she checked over his now mostly healed cuts and bruises. This evening’s topic of conversation was the lumberjack trying in vain to convince his lover that bacon and ham did in fact come from the same animal, but the spritely Az’kel was having none of it and kept playfully suggesting he was trying to trick her.

  
  


The ‘argument’ came to a head when Azrielle began to playfully attack Henry in an attempt to wrestle the truth from him, interlocking fingers and trying with all her might to push his hands against the seat’s backrest. Henry couldn’t help but laugh, able to hold her hands perfectly still as she strained and hissed, a jovial smirk upon her lips and her eyes screwed shut. The woodcutter began to advance, pushing her hands further and further back, groans, hisses and squeaks of resistance as she tried her hardest to lean forward into him, her hands being pushed back until they were level with her shoulders. Just as Henry felt he’d delayed long enough, ready to push her arms down against her side and declare victory in favour of pigs being a thing that exist, he felt smooth stone-like scales against his neck. Her tail was suddenly firmly wrapped around his throat, the powerful appendage coiling slowly tighter, not yet restricting air flow but certainly threatening it.

  
  


Henry’s eyes went wide, releasing his grip of her fingers slowly, knowing when he had been beaten. For a moment a flash of fear moved through his mind, caught off guard by her calculated manoeuvre and alarmed by the sudden look of hunger in her eyes. She took a moment to enjoy the sight before her, a smug smirk appearing upon her lips as she studied the face of her now captive. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle wins~”_ She announced in a husky sultry tone of voice that sent shivers up his spine. Immediately, she pounced forward pressing her lips against his, her gentle yet eager tongue slipping impatiently into his mouth. Her tail uncoiled from around his throat, slipping down heavily on to the floor behind her as the abruptly passionate kiss escalated quickly, Henry’s hands swiftly finding their way to her supple pillowy ass. Her hisses and squeaks turned to muffled moans as Henry’s tongue explored her own, loving the way he handled her body. It didn’t take long for the rapidly turned on Az’kel to begin grinding herself against him, still unaccustomed to the novelty of him already being erect without her venomous aid. After last night however, as Henry’s fingers inched closer to her steadily dampening entrance, there was only one thing on his mind. 

  
  


Henry gripped her ass tight, ready to lift her up and place her on the seat opposite before getting to his knees and sampling her deliciously addictive flavour once more. He was salivating with the thought, though just as he began to move her tail shot up with alarming velocity and pressed firmly against his chest, holding him in place. She grinned knowingly at him as she gently removed his hands from her rear, getting down onto her knees before him, all the while keeping her tail still but firm against his chest. She maintained eye contact with him as she unbuckled his belt and trousers, sliding them eagerly alongside his boxers in one smooth movement to the floor. She grinned with excitement at his gently twitching cock, already a little damp with precum around the head from all the grinding and kissing. 

  
  


Azrielle opened her mouth slowly, maintaining eye contact with Henry as best she could, though finding it harder and harder to keep her eyes off his member. As her mouth opened a flash of uncertainty crossed his mind, piercing through the thick fog of horniness, as he caught sight of her fangs. They were as sizable as they were sharp, and for a moment he had the urge to call the whole thing off, not willing to risk it. But as her delicate warm tongue moved up and pressed against the base of his shaft, moving slowly and deliberately up to his crown, a shudder of pleasure (and perhaps foolishness) rose up his spine and he decided to trust his oovatyal’s carefulness. It was only now, as her tongue glided gently up and down his shaft, that he was able to notice just how long her tongue was. It looked to be almost twice as long as his own, causing him to moan softly and involuntarily as it swirled about his tip. 

  
  


Unbeknownst to the woodcutter, Azrielle had been carefully studying his expressions to discern how best to pleasure him. She wanted to return the favour of him so skillfully and pleasurably using his tongue on her, but she had no real idea what was pleasurable for him beyond being enveloped in her tight wet walls and pressing up against the barrier to her womb. She raised an eyebrow at his moan, her tail rattling quietly behind her as she focused her attention on his head. She swirled her tongue around and under his glans, pleased by his breathing becoming shallower and his cheeks steadily more red. Emboldened by her partner’s reactions, she pressed her lips against the tip tenderly, almost as if kissing it. She kept her eyes locked on him, reasoning that as he liked to be inside her, her mouth would surely work too. Henry bit his lip as he watched her lips envelop the head of his cock, steadily moving down and pushing more of his cock into her mouth. 

  
  


Henry struggled to stifle another moan, feeling his sensitive head moving along her tongue towards the back of her throat, her lips about halfway down his shaft. All the while she maintained eye contact, something he found to be a little intimidating though extremely arousing. A soft moan escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, moving one hand between her thighs and beginning to rub her clit slowly. She looked back up at him, batting her eyelashes at her oovatyal as she moved her head down further. He was able to fit (almost) entirely inside of her pussy, so she wanted to simulate that as best she could with her mouth. Henry watched in amazement as her lips made their way down to the base of his cock, feeling his cock angle downwards into the surprising tightness of her throat. He shuddered once again as her tongue moved against his balls, massaging and licking them eagerly as she held the entirety of his cock inside her mouth and throat. 

  
  


From what he’d heard of overly boastful drunks at the taverns he had frequented in his teenage years, this was something only a handful of women were able to do successfully. Henry had doubts that this was the case however, as the Az’kel seemed to be entirely unphased and even somewhat eager to accept him into her throat. Regardless, Azrielle wanted to provide an authentic experience, and sticking to what she knew she began bobbing her head up and down slowly much like she would with her hips. She watched in delight at the pleasured almost euphoric facial expressions of her lover, as equally proud of her handiwork as she was turned on, swirling her fingertips more eagerly than before about her clit.

  
  


For several minutes Azrielle set to work pleasuring her lover, her head eagerly bobbing up and down between his legs. Thick saliva had begun to drip down his shaft from her throat, which for a moment the Az’kel had been embarrassed about, but the hunger she saw in his eyes as he watched her make a mess of herself to pleasure him was more than enough to reassure her it was fine. The taboo and highly unusual behaviour for her race, combined with the soft masculine noises of approval from Henry, was turning her on fiercely. Her thighs trembled as she got close to the edge, her pussy dripping slightly onto the floor below, struggling to bring herself to orgasm given the angle she had to work with. She preferred to feel something inside of her to stimulate her properly, and she just couldn’t reach far enough back to get her fingers deep enough to satisfy. Regardless, she was in no rush, more than enjoying the slightly salty taste of her man’s manhood as she pushed his cock into her throat ravenously once more. 

  
  


Remembering that he had enjoyed her breasts, she tugged at the top of her dress revealing her perky mounds which bounced gently with her head movements. It wasn’t long before some of the thick bubbly saliva mixed with precum began to drip onto her breasts, the sight of which quickly pushed Henry to the edge. His legs tensed and untensed, a soft “ _fuck”_ escaping his lips, all that he could manage to warn her of the impending orgasm. Azrielle felt her heart skip a beat, having not decided on how best to handle his orgasm. She took his cock out of her throat in a moment of indecision, before deciding that if he had swallowed her mess she should try to swallow his. Just as his cock throbbed and pulsed, glistening with precum and saliva in the firelight, Azrielle pushed the tip back into her mouth and locked eyes with the woodsman. 

  
  


As the thick hot liquid began to shoot out over her tongue, a spike of lust shot through her at the realisation of what she was doing. She moaned loudly at the taste of his lust, finding it to be salty and moreish, swallowing the first few spurts greedily. Overtaken by excitement, her fingers as deep inside of herself as she could get them given her positioning, she pushed his cock a little too deep into her mouth so that most of his load was shot directly into her throat. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head slightly as she felt his heated lust surging down inside of her, filling her stomach with his delicious hot mess. As his twitching began to subside, she slowly raised her head allowing his cock to flop out of her mouth messily, greedily setting to work at licking any remaining mess from his shaft. For a moment Henry was wordless, breathing heavily from such a powerful orgasm, taking in the sight of his exotic sun-kissed lover lapping and licking his cock clean. 

  
  


Pleased with the outcome of her little experiment, she removed her tail from his chest and slyly brought her fingers up to lick clean much like she had his shaft. Henry had noticed her hand movements however, and despite having climaxed, he was still very eager to have his fill of the tasty Az’kel. No sooner had she got to her feet, ready to cuddle up to Henry, had he lifted her up by the thighs and placed her down on the seat opposite. She squeaked as he did so, her tail wrapping around his back for support as she was lifted. He swiftly got to his knees and eagerly spread her legs, thankful that she had not worn her panties as he impatiently pushed his face between her thick thighs. 

  
  


Azrielle moaned at once as she felt his tongue enter her drenched entrance, pressing up against her sensitive walls and pushing her that little further she needed to finally climax. Her legs spasmed and crossed against his back, her toes curling and her back arching uncontrollably as she half moaned half screamed, caught off guard by such a sudden messy climax. She gripped the fabric of the seat hard, moaning out his name as she rocked her hips against his tongue, feeling herself quivering as she filled his mouth with her delicious honey-like mess. Now it was Henry’s turn to moan, craving more and more of her sweet tasting mess, willing his tongue to reach further inside of her dripping honeypot. He adjusted his grip from her thighs to her ass, squeezing much rougher than before, leaving fingermarks on her soft skin as he lifted her up to his mouth to attempt a better angle. 

  
  


For almost an hour Henry serviced his lover, his mouth glistening with her mess as she came again and again, savouring every last drop of her juices. He alternated from her clit to her entrance, making her squirm and moan violently, tearing the fabric of the seat slightly as her whole body arched and shook from the overstimulation. Henry wished he could stay right here between her thighs until dawn, loving every aspect of pleasuring the gorgeous woman, from her taste to her sounds. Azrielle however felt like her heart might burst from her chest, eventually having to use her tail to pull Henry away as she found her arms too weak to do so. Henry obliged, though secretly disappointed for it to end. He took a moment to watch his lover half sat half lying atop the seat, a messy puddle beneath her trembling smooth legs as she basked in the afterglow of her multiple orgasms. 

  
  


Feeling suddenly protective of the petite woman, he got to his feet and scooped her up into his arms, laying her down on the seat with her head resting on his lap. Azrielle nuzzled against his lap, beginning to come down from her high, thanking Henry profusely between her heavy breaths. Using the last of her strength, she used her tail to fish out the blanket from the underseat storage, passing it to Henry who draped it carefully over her body. Henry began to run his hand along her head soothingly, enjoying how soft her silvery hair felt compared to his own. It didn’t take long for Azrielle to slip into sleep, exhausted and feeling well and truly safe in her lover’s embrace. Henry took a little longer to drift off however, cursing himself for not lying down alongside her like the night before, knowing his back would ache in the morning from remaining sat up all night. Steadily, his eyes grew heavier and the constant crackling of the fire more distant…

  
  


He awoke with a start, a blood curdling almost agonised noise sounding out from outside the carriage. Adrenaline coursed through his body instantly, panic gripping his chest as Azrielle shot up in surprise alongside him. From outside, a distressed whinny from one of the horses, followed quickly by the guttural beastly snarls of some unknown threat. 

  
  
  


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I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and congratulations to those supporters who voted for exploring the wild (heh) west and for Azrielle to return the favour!

Here’s the lewd decision for supporters this week:  
  


(Remember, you can support the story and vote, as well as getting access to additional goodies by checking out my twitter! <https://twitter.com/SmutKnight> <3)

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How should the pair explore each other in the next chapter?

  1. Have Azrielle use her natural aphrodisiac on Henry!  
  

  2. Have Azrielle use her natural aphrodisiac on herself!  
  

  3. Have Azrielle take control for a night; experiment with her (gentle) femdom side!  
  

  4. Have Henry take control for a night; see how the Az’kel enjoys being submissive!  
  

  5. Spend a night fucking and exploring multiple new positions!  
  

  6. Experiment with rough sex; Spanking, biting, hair pulling and more!



  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  



	5. The Price Of Unpreparedness

“ _The horses!”_ Azrielle cried out, desperately rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one arm as she tugged at Henry with the other. She was panicked, not yet certain whether this was the beginnings of some unsettling dream or in fact actually happening. Her eyes went wide with fear as another bestial howl reverberated through the wagon. Henry leapt to his feet with Azrielle following suit, now reassured of the reality of the situation which only deepened the fear she felt. She had never heard such terrifying sounds before, leaving her hesitant to take the lead, even in defence of her giant docile chauffeurs stood helpless just outside. Henry however, having spent most of his life outdoors in the woods around Lampveller, knew exactly what was responsible for those distinctive howls and snarls. His heart beat hard in his chest, having only ever seen one or two before albeit from a distance due to the pack animals usually rightfully wary of humans and keeping well away from town. The lumberjack flung the under-seat storage open, not even having time to put on his jacket as he grabbed the crossbow from where it rested atop their wood supply. 

  
  


From just outside came another pained whinny, accompanied by a chorus of furious snarls and gnashing of teeth. There was no time to prepare his companion for the danger they were about to face, no time to think on his approach, no time at all. He flung the door open, the distant orange glow of the rising sun painting the cloudy sky an eerie sickly amber, providing just enough light for him to take in his surroundings. Azrielle lifted her blanket from the seat and wrapped it briskly around her shoulders as Henry stepped out and turned to face the front of the cart, the Az’kel following quickly behind him on legs shaking with fear. Henry gripped the crossbow in a vice-like grip, his eyes flicking from left to right resulting in a blur of beasts and dimly lit snow across his vision. Whether there were a dozen or more he couldn’t tell, instead focusing his gaze on the closest two tugging and thrashing at one of the fallen horses before him. 

  
  


Wolves were not an uncommon sight in these northern lands, but only ever from afar: a glimpse through the distant treeline or disappearing in the underbrush opposite a body of water. This was Henry’s first time seeing one up close, causing him to clench his teeth and his hands to shake as the large grey fur covered beasts lunged and snapped at the fallen horse. 

  
  


“ **_Hey!_ **” Henry bellowed, succeeding in startling not only Azrielle and the wolves but also himself, scarcely recognising the thunderous voice as his own even as it passed by his lips. Though he was terrified of the pack of predators before him, struggling to even will his arms upwards and take aim with the crossbow, his tone of voice certainly did not betray it. The wolves stopped their attack, the nearest two looking to him with surprise as blood dripped from the matted fur of their mauls, dashing quickly a few feet away from him before shrinking down and studying Henry alongside the ten or so other members of their pack. There was a series of yips and snarling between the beasts, their bodies lowered and their teeth bared, causing Henry to grow nervous as some flanked around until there was a semi-circle of them along the path and amongst the trees around them.

  
  


“ **_Back! All of you, back!_ **” Henry shouted, Azrielle quickly clinging to his back with her tail raised defensively, intimidated by the sizable pack of animals around them. She’d never seen creatures like these before, her legs trembled fiercely as one crept closer illuminating it in the firelight emitted from the open door of the carriage, realising it was only a foot or so shorter than she was. Henry stepped in front of her, positioning himself between her and the wolf with her back pressed against one of the wagon’s front wheels, shouting once more as he lashed out at the canine with the crossbow. The wolf quickly slunk backwards into the shadows, it’s grey snow-covered form quickly turning to face them revealing those red-tinted eyes once more as it’s resolve quickly returned to it. There was a fearful whinny from his right, turning to find two wolves had taken the opportunity to approach and snap at the fallen horse once again while he was distracted, using their numbers to their advantage. Henry turned and fired, knowing that no matter what if they lost their horses they would be stranded out here in the wilds and as good as dead. 

  
  


Whether through luck or through desperation, the bolt found its mark with a sickening wet thud as the wolf was knocked to its side. It’s legs scrambled on the frozen ground in an attempt to find footing and right itself. It’s front right leg however hung useless and unresponsive, while the others thrashed about in panic. What once were fearsome snarls turned to winded whistles and rasps as the beast struggled to force air into its body, the bolt having pierced straight through one lung and embedded firmly into the other. Azrielle watched it thrashing in horror, still clutching Henry’s top, not knowing which horse was injured or even how badly, let alone how to handle being so vastly outnumbered by these unknown creatures. She fought every urge to run, wanting to grab Henry and bolt back into the cabin, desperately willing her legs to hold steady so she could keep her horses safe.

  
  


The fallen wolf’s movements grew slow and ceased all together, leaving a spray of crimson across the snowy ground from it’s maw. Henry took little solace in this small victory however, knowing they were still vastly outnumbered and that even just one of these beasts could likely overpower him. He whipped his head round to his left once more, startled to find another three wolves had already begun to advance while his attention had been focused on the one to his right. They were opportunistic in their movements, keenly aware that he couldn’t keep his attention on all of them at once. Henry fumbled with the crossbow, pulling the bowstring back and locking it into place as he began to sidestep slowly towards the front of the cart. With the crossbow cocked he put a protective arm to his side and grabbed Azrielle, guiding her step-by-step towards the horses. If he could position himself between them and the wolves, they would have the river to their back and the wagon to their side, severely limiting the directions they could attack from. The three wolves to the left crept closer and prepared to lunge, with Azrielle dispelling them effortlessly with a downwards strike from her tail against the ground which sent forth a cloud of loose snow. 

  
  


“ _We need to get to Ohtyl and Handsome, so we c-can stand over them and keep them from hurting them more”_ Henry half-rambled half shouted, adrenaline clearly getting the best of him as they crept along the side of the cart surrounded by a cacophony of growling and excited yips, the predators apparently undeterred by him having slain one of their kin. Azrielle swiped with her tail once more in a wide arc, causing some of the closer wolves to shrink back and howl. They stepped carefully over the body of the felled wolf and could now clearly hear the heavy breathing and whines of the horses behind them. Henry lifted his crossbow and shouted at one to his far right which had tried to skirt alongside the riverbank and snap at the still standing horse, which thankfully flinched and doubled back round to join the rest of its pack.

  
  


“ _Azrielle is scared, what do we do?”_ The Az’kel whispered, tears forming in her eyes as the ragged breathing of the fallen horse behind her caught her ear, unwilling to turn her head from the wolves for even a moment to assess the extent of his injuries or even which of their horses it was laying just behind them.

  
  


“ _I don’t…_ **_back!_ ** _... I don’t know we just need to keep them away from him. You use your tail to-”_ As he spoke a dark brown blur of matted fur lunged from his right, Azrielle quickly raised her tail and smacked it in its chest mid-leap sending it sprawling with a yelp to the snow below. Despite the harsh impact which would have surely winded a human, if not collapsed their ribs entirely, the wolf scrambled skittishly back to its feet and rejoined the rest of the pack in their advance now positioned a little further back than its kin with it’s confidence clearly shaken. 

  
  


“ _Keep doing that and keep them at bay, they should give up soon once they realise we’re not an easy meal, or if I send a bolt into another one of the... “_ Henry paused, looking down at the cocked but unloaded crossbow, now realising that in his haste he had neglected to pick up the quiver of bolts. Where before there had been fear, albeit banished somewhat by his lucky shot on the closest of the pack members, now there was only dread. He was effectively unarmed, the hunk of wood and bowstring in his hands rendered no more use than a poorly shaped club without ammunition to fire from it. Azrielle had noticed his gaze flicking back and forth from the beasts to his crossbow, as if wishing his eyes had deceived him and if he just kept checking a bolt would soon appear locked in to the firing mechanism.

  
  


“ _I’ve got no more bolts”_ Henry whispered, for the first time his voice beginning to show the fear he felt, his voice quiet as if the wolves might overhear and realise their advantage. Azrielle felt her body turn cold and her cheeks drained of any and all warmth, though not from the bitter winter air that nipped at her skin, but from the realisation that perhaps this fight was not one they could win. Her eyes widened and her tail swung back and forth in a wide arc, the wolves noticeably less fearful of the powerful appendage, growing used to its movements and spurred on by the veritable feast laying just behind the two bipeds. 

  
  


Henry wrestled with the thought of trying to dash back inside of the carriage to retrieve the bolts, knowing that even in the unlikely event of him reaching the doors unharmed, the time it would take for him to retrieve them from storage and load a bolt would be time the pack would have free reign to descend upon the horses. He lashed out with the now useless hunk of wood at one of the approaching wolves from his right, a gnarled and scarred looking beast that despite being runty when compared to the others of its pack, was still almost half his size and could no doubt easily overpower him. It cowered away, but only a few feet back, quickly turning back round and closing in once more. The woodcutter’s hand searched his waist and he cursed himself as he found the holster for his axe empty, having put it away for the evening earlier in the night. He switched the crossbow to his other hand and shouted once more, stepping forward but alarmed to see little reaction from the pack. His free hand searched the opposite side of his belt and his fingers curled thankfully around the hilt of the hunting knife he’d retrieved from the slavers. 

  
  


What at first glance had been a menacing six or so inch blade, serrated near the hilt and sharpened to a razor's edge, now felt like a toothpick in his hand as he pointed it towards the horde of brutish teeth and claws before him. There was the stamping of hooves against snow a few feet behind him, the encroaching mob of wolves beginning to panic the horse still left standing. Henry looked to Azrielle who though clearly scared and almost certainly suffering from the cold, was holding their left flank from the six or so beasts with a constant swinging of her bludgeon-like tail. None of the strikes were connecting however as the agile wolves easily dodged backwards out of its path again and again. The hunters seemed to sense that Henry’s side was the easiest avenue of attack, with eight of them bearing down on him and barely cowering at all even as he swiped with wood and blade towards them, passing mere inches from their forms. Henry’s gaze turned for a moment to the fallen wolf’s body, eyeing the bolt that protruded from his shoulder wondering if perhaps he could wrench it free in time to load and fire in the vain hope that killing another of their kind might scare them off. 

  
  


Just as he opened his mouth to see if perhaps Azrielle could reach it, realising she was able to use her hands freely while still defending herself with her tail, there came a cacophony of panicked whinnying and crunching of snow underfoot followed by the loud snapping of leather. Azrielle had just enough time to gasp in shock, but not a second more to warn Henry of the horse barreling towards him. Having grown too terrified of the encroaching fangs and snarls, one of the horses had struggled against its reins until they had snapped free of the tree they were tied to. He had wasted no time in bolting, far too panicked to care who or what was in his way. Subsequently Henry was alarmed to find himself thrown forward onto his stomach as the muscular form of one of his own horses collided against his back.

  
  


His face impacted the snow hard, the wind pushed from his lungs as he instinctively pushed himself onto his back. He was dazed and disorientated, not able to comprehend what force had knocked him prone even as the galloping of hooves against snow tore away from him into the forest beyond. The crossbow had been sent from his grasp as he went sprawling, and the knife lay a foot or so to his side where it was stabbed into the frozen ground. Were his ears not ringing he might have heard Azrielle calling out to him in a fevered pitch of fear and shock. There was no time to get his bearings, no time to register the sounds of two of the pack peeling off after the escaping horse, and no time to catch his breath as the first of the wolves sank it’s fangs into his flesh. 

  
  


Curiously, due in part to his dazed and semi-conscious mindset, the first he registered of the assault on his person was the horrendous fetid smell of the wolf’s breath as it struggled to find purchase about his throat. Its teeth raked his chin and cheeks, thick slobber drenching his face as they tried to clamp down around his neck. Had his hand not been gripping his shoulder in pain from his impact on the ground, the wolf would have had direct access to his unprotected throat. Due to the placement of his arm however, its razor like canines sank into his wrist and elbow instead, growling in frustration as it shook its head violently. Henry’s eyes went wide as the stabbing pain threatening to tear the flesh from his arm brought his wits back to him, gritting his teeth and beginning to punch uselessly against its muscular form with his free arm. He tensed his arm and tried to hold it still, knowing if just one of its teeth found its way to his throat he was as good as dead, struggling with all his might to keep his now bloodied arm in place. Try as he might the strength of the wolf’s jaw far exceeded his own. He struggled to keep it positioned to protect his throat for more than just a few seconds before it was ripped away from his neck, clamped firmly between the beast’s monstrous jaws. 

  
  


The prior crossbow injury to his arm and subsequent bandaging and dried aloettá helped in small part to resist the gnashing jaws, but only for a moment. The wax-like covering and thick linen were soon torn from his arm from the vicious shaking of its head, and Henry cried out as its teeth gained purchase deep in his arm. His free hand now battered the wolf’s face more fiercely than before, albeit to seemingly little or no effect. The movements of its mouth threatened to snap his arm like a twig, and he found himself having to writhe around on the ground to match its movement lest it twist his arm too sharply. The breaking of bone of course was only a concern for if there was any arm left, and right now that was far from a certainty. As the ferocious beast tugged and wrenched at his arm a fresh torrent of blood soaked his sleeves which were thoroughly torn to shreds in the wake of this maelstrom of fangs. 

  
  


Henry cried out in agony, clenching his teeth hard as the corners of his vision began to ebb with darkness, the pain threatening to snuff out his consciousness entirely. His fists were doing nothing and the wolf’s movements were too rapid to try and aim for its eyes. He turned his head to the side for a moment, catching sight of the dagger practically glowing orange in the light of the rising sun, reaching out and straining to grasp it as the wolf continued jerking and tearing into his right arm. His shaking fingers wrapped about it’s hilt, and in a flash the blade had found its way to the wolf’s face. Alarmingly, the wolf seemed largely unphased, save for the steady streak of crimson now adorning its snout. Whether fuelled by bloodlust or simply undaunted by the fairly minor flesh wound, the wolf’s harrowing assault upon his flesh scarcely even slowed. He bellowed out in newfound determination at being armed once more, no longer feeling his mangled arm though whether through adrenaline or nerve damage or even just shock he could not tell, stabbing fiercely into any inch of flesh he could reach with the blade quickly becoming slick with blood. 

  
  


The flurry of what felt to the wolf as simple blows to its face and neck quickly caused catastrophic damage below the surface of its matted blood soaked fur. One moment it had been tearing into its prey, the next it had felt light headed, finally slumping with a pitiful whimper as a spray of crimson dribbled from the wounds in its neck to the floor below. There was no time to savour this victory for the battered and bloodied lumberjack however, as the rest of the wolves quickly descended upon him the moment an opening presented itself. Thankfully he was able to move his mauled arm up over his neck once more to protect his vitals and hopefully render the mangled limb less of a target. The warm wetness of his life essence began to seep into his top as he tried to tense his arm as best he could, digging his hand into the snow and gripping what little vegetation he could to try get his arm to hold fast. The next of the pack that bore down on him opted for a different avenue of attack however, snapping its jaws around his calf and shaking it violently. 

  
  


Henry tried to sit up to stab at the beast, a flash of confusion muddling amongst the agony in his head as he realised he could no longer see the cart nor Azrielle, finding himself instead facing the rising sun through the thick forest to the east. He had been spun about in the attack and was now being dragged deeper, inch by inch, tug by vicious tug along the path and into the treeline. He tried to slash at the wolf but quickly two others barrelled into him, one desperately trying to find purchase about his throat and face once more as the other snapped at his wrist. The air was forced from his lungs a second time as the pouncing wolf landed upon him, struggling even to shout out as it’s teeth raked his face. He tried to stab at it before it incur more damage, finding his arm held down by the jaws of another, only able to twist the blade in small arcs and deter the wolf’s jaws from ravaging his wrist completely. His eyes were awash with blood and he couldn’t even fight air back into his lungs, his grip faltering on the hunting knife as the last of his strength left him. 

  
  


All at once the wolves abruptly stopped their attack, blood dripping from their maws as they stood still atop the weakly flailing woodcutter, still fighting fiercely to simply draw breath into his body. His vision blurred by pain, canine saliva and much of his own blood, his ears thumped with the savage beating of his heart, but even so he could hear the sound that had stopped them. A fierce rattling hiss, piercing and drawn out, a war cry he was familiar with and thankful for. The wolves’ demeanor changed immediately as this noise sounded out, their ears laying flat against their head and their hackles raised. Their agonising teeth stopped tearing at his flesh and Henry tried weakly to push the wolf from his chest, the knife having lost his weak grasp and trying in vain to both force the canine off of him and wrench air into his burning lungs. Try as he might the wolf wouldn’t budge, his jaw locked tight around his bloodied useless arm as the woodcutter’s pushing with the other didn’t even seem to register for it. There was a whistling of air and then a sickening crack, the wolf a top him suddenly falling slack to the side without so much as a yelp, it’s head forced backwards from a horrendously brutal impact. Henry wheezed and gasped in air, another hiss piercing the chilly morning air as she swung her tail over him at the now scattering wolves, standing herself over him protectively. Something instinctual about the Az’kel’s hiss instilled a sense of urgency and fear in the apex predators, quickly scattering into the forest back the way they had come. 

  
  


Henry went to wipe the blood from his eyes, more annoyed than concerned to find his arm no longer obeyed his wills, hanging uselessly about his throat. He used the other arm to try to clear his vision, only succeeding in rubbing crisp snow across his face which quickly turned from delicate white to a deep maroon. The attack upon his person may have ended, but his wounds were substantial and the pain indescribable. Delicate hands helped to clear his face of blood and muck, finding Azrielle to be holding his face, her eyes wide with concern and tears streaming down her cheeks. The rising sun behind her seemed to Henry to give her a bright almost heavenly aura, highlighting her beauty even despite her tears.

  
  


“ _Azrielle...”_ He managed quietly, his voice startlingly quiet and hoarse, still struggling to breathe as if that heavy weight of the wolf was still placed firmly against his ribs. Despite the state of him and the snow to his sides now marred by crimson, he smiled weakly. Whether from blood loss or shock or simply an appreciation of still being alive, a warmth flooded his cheeks at the sight of his companion.

  
  


“ _H-henry…”_ Was all the Az’kel could manage in reply, her eyes surveying the damage and having to try her hardest not to burst into tears at the sight of his injuries. Her legs shook from the cold and the terror that had unfolded before her. Her tail curled defensively around his battered body and she looked over her shoulder, paranoid that she would catch sight of a shock of beastly fur ready to ambush her amongst the trees, thankful that for the moment they were alone. She bit her lip before bending down and kissing his blood-soaked forehead tenderly, allowing a moment to weep gently and be thankful that he was still alive. The fleeing horse had knocked him away from her, and by the time she had fended off the wolves to her left they had already dragged her oovatyal almost a dozen feet from the carriage along the path. They couldn’t have had him for more than five or six seconds, and yet the damage they’d done to him... She wanted to break down, lie atop him and sob at having not warned him sooner, of not having got to him quicker, at having not better protected him. 

  
  


She gritted her teeth, her tail snaking slowly under his shoulders and hooking beneath his armpit, holding his mangled arm firmly as she gripped his other arm in her hands and tried to lift him to his feet.

  
  


“ _We… we need to get you up, Ok Henry? Y-you’re hurt…”_ Azrielle managed, her voice tender and soothing, though it seemed to Henry distant as if she were talking to him from across a field, despite her lips being mere inches from his ear. He was faint, taking a moment before he even realised he was being held upright, his feet dragging uselessly in the snow and his relatively unharmed arm held around the shorter woman’s shoulders. She grunted and groaned as she made her way slowly towards the cart, having to step around the three wolf corpses left in the wake of her getting to her lover. Henry blinked slowly, his head pointed towards the ground and feeling as if it were made of solid lead and the mere act of lifting it would require super-human strength his neck simply did not possess. He looked curiously at the bodies of the wolves, one had it’s chest caved completely, another with its legs broken at unnatural angles. He coughed harshly, his rasping and wheezing thankfully beginning to lesson as his severely winded chest began to grow accustomed to unrestricted access to oxygen once more. A mixture of spittle and blood dripped messily from his lips down to his chin, causing the woodcutter great embarrassment even in his delirious state.

  
  


“ _Wait… Azrie… stop... I-I need to wipe my… there’s… on my chin…”_ The woodcutter managed, trying his hardest to put his feet forward and stand still, disappointed to find that only one leg obeyed with the other dragging lifelessly in the snow behind them.

  
  


“ _No, no we can’t stop my love, not yet”_ Azrielle replied, her sights set firmly on the still open door to their wagon. Her body ached and complained, having expended much of her energy on the powerful swings of her heavy tail and sustained some nasty bruising along her spine from backing into the wheel of the carriage to avoid the charging horse.

  
  


“ _But it's… why can’t I wipe it?”_ Henry asked once more, his bloodied arm hanging slack against his side and leaking crimson steadily on to the snowy path below. The adrenaline began to diminish in his system, leaving him uncharacteristically cold and with a curious absentmindedness to his thoughts not dissimilar to being heavily intoxicated. He furrowed his brow, suddenly aware of the dull throbbing heat in his arm and his leg. 

  
  


“ _It’s bad… isn’t it…”_ Henry managed, a faint recollection of the harrowing incidents lingering in his mind even despite the shock he was experiencing. Azrielle bit her lip, a chilly wind billowing effortlessly through her blanket and her lover’s shredded shirt alike, causing them to both shiver fiercely. 

  
  


“ _You’re ok my love, Azrielle has got you, we are almost there just a few more steps.”_ She reassured, looking to her side for a moment and smiling weakly at the bloodied and battered man to her side. Out of her peripheral vision she could see the trail of red-stained snow they were leaving behind them, her stomach tying itself into knots at the mere sight of it.

  
  


“ _The horses… are they Ok?”_ Henry managed quietly, his eyes now shut and his arms steadily losing strength, Azrielle finding herself having to dig her nails into his hand to hold his arm around her as her strength threatened to leave her too. The stress, over exertion and bitter cold had taken their toll on the cold-blooded woman, long since having lost the feeling in her extremities. Her legs shook fiercely as Henry stopped supporting himself at all, his entire weight bearing down on her which even her powerful tail struggled to support in her weakened state. They were less than five steps from the carriage doors.

  
  


“ _They are Ok Henry, you saved them my love. S-sweetheart you have to stay with your oovatyal, Ok? We’re so close. Azrielle will get you there she promises but you need to-”_ She groaned under the strain, her left leg buckling as her foot slid in the blood-stained snow. 

  
  


“ _You need to stay awake Henry, stay here with your oovatyal”_ She half shouted half pleaded, angry at getting so close to safety, furious at her body's inability to make those final few steps. Henry remained silent, blood dripping slowly from his split lip and his legs hanging uselessly below him. 

  
  


“ **_You need to stay with Azrielle!_ ** _”_ The horned woman demanded once again, her voice desperate and aggressive, a hint of that fierce hiss to her voice that had driven the wolves off in the first place. Henry squeezed her shoulder slightly, not opening his eyes but moving his lips producing a whisper that was barely audible over the babbling creek beside them and the brisk whistling wind through the trees to their right.

  
  


“ _Ok...”_ Was all the man could manage. Azrielle’s tail rattled despite her exhaustion, her eyes watered fiercely as for a moment there she had believed he had left her. She expected him to try to walk spurred on by some new found strength, to shoulder some of the burden and help them to reach their destination, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to move more than gently squeezing her shoulder. Azrielle gritted her teeth and took another shakey step forward, her balance abandoning her as she began careening to the left. She stopped short of the ground, her shoulder impacting something firm and warm, able to just keep her footing as her face and shoulder leaned hard against unknown thick fur. There stood beside her, its head low with concern was Handsome. His front leg was bloodied and bitten, raised off of the ground and clearly causing him great pain. Even so, there he stood beside them both, having managed to get himself off of the ground and join them despite his injured state. He trotted forward slowly, his head moving to be held high in alert, scanning the forest for wolves and chuffing steam fiercely from his flared nostrils.

  
  


Azrielle leaned hard against their loyal steed, thanking him through trembling lips as she gripped his shaggy coat and shuffled slowly forward until reaching the door. The horse whinnied and shook his head with every step of his injured leg, but did his best to hold firm, whether through loyalty and concern for his owners or simply self-preservation in wanting to stick close to the people that had defended him. Regardless, with his aid, the Az’kel was able to sit Henry down on the step into the interior of the carriage as she herself crawled past him towards the fire. Thankfully the fire had not yet run its course, and she pushed her body against the hot glass until it was unbearable to do so for a moment longer, trying to force as much warmth into her body as fast as possible as she held Henry upright with her tail still sat at the entrance. Handsome nuzzled at Henry’s battered form, chuffing and nibbling gently at his matted hair that hung loosely over his forehead. Azrielle turned to watch, preparing herself for hauling him up into the carriage, amazed that despite his state her lover slowly and shakily raised his uninjured arm and placed his hand gently against the beast’s nose.

  
  


“ _See? You were a good Pateryl, kept him safe”_ Azrielle managed, trying to quell the fear in her voice, positioning herself behind him and wrapping her tail firmly around his waist. Henry did not reply, his hand slowly slipping from the horse’s face back down to his side, simply groaning slightly as the powerful tail coiled around him and lifted him haphazardly up into the cart. Whether aiding her or simply vying for more attention, Handsome pushed his head against Henry’s chest until the horse’s neck was firmly inside of the cart and Henry was sat with his back against one of the seats. Azrielle had to shoo the horse out quickly, planting a quick kiss on the top of his head and thanking him for his help, before slamming the door shut. Henry was cold to the touch, much more so than she had realised whilst carrying him here, and she wanted to warm him up as fast as possible.

  
  


She scrambled up on top of the seat behind him, her tail coiled firmly around his waist still to stop him from toppling over as she grabbed the linen sack of medical supplies. She moved back down in front of him, emptying the contents between his legs, trying to decide what to use and what needed the most urgent attention. While she studied the supplies they had, her tail uncoiled from her lover and rummaged in the seat behind him, hastily coiling round and retrieving the two remaining Aloettá bulbs from the storage compartment. She cracked one open with her tail, trying to decide which wound to treat first. She looked to his arm that hung limply at his side.

  
  


His shirt was torn to shreds along the sleeve, with large diagonal streaks across the front of his chest from where one of the beast’s had stood on him. The cuts on his chest looked shallow and clean, but his forearm was a different story entirely. Blood oozed and soaked into what was left of his sleeve and the bandages used to tend to his previous injury fighting the slavers, which Azrielle had to carefully peel back to properly assess the wound. There were a dozen or more puncture wounds from his wrist all the way to his elbow, with two large pronounced gashes from all the thrashing the beast had done. Though there was certainly a lot of blood, the bites weren’t as deep as Azrielle had feared, meaning perhaps Henry’s resistance had done more to help than he had supposed. She turned her attention to his face, one cheek cut to ribbons and gashes along his chin where one of the beasts had gone for his throat and failed. His neck was thankfully unharmed though, beyond some bruising and light cuts. She decided the wounds on his face could be tended to last as they were largely superficial. She paused, a curious warmth meeting her knee as she shuffled closer to him.

  
  


Looking down she noticed the small puddle of crimson now having formed beneath his outstretched calf, realising his leg wound must be worse than she first supposed. His trouser leg was heavy and damp and she had to expend a great deal of effort to roll it up enough to see the wound clearly. She gasped at the extent of the damage, able to identify the unmistakable dull white hue of bone amongst the various deep puncture wounds. The bites started just below the knee, and luckily his boots though now thoroughly chewed up, had protected his foot from the worst of the savagery. His calf was pock-marked with wounds and there were too many gashes and lacerations for her to count. Blood continued to pool below his leg, and she realised if she didn’t act now he’d soon bleed to death. She tried her hardest to remember what little medical knowledge she’d accrued, having little knowledge of how to tend such devastating wounds as her profession was a scribe not a doctor. She knew the Aloettá would form a seal and stop the wound festering, and that bandages would help bind the wax-like coating to his leg, but she didn’t know if that would be enough.

  
  


Deciding it was better to tend to his wounds poorly than to not tend them at all, she quickly set to work smearing the jelly-like innards of the medicinal bulb across his leg. Henry had long since lost consciousness, his head slumped to the side. She bit her lip in concentration as she used her tail to scooch his leg closer to the fire, wanting the light green gloop to harden and form a seal as fast as possible. She used her hands to press on either-side of his calf, causing a groan of discomfort from the injured man, wanting to keep his wounds closed as much as possible and hoping the rapidly setting Aloettá would keep them closed. Knowing that though his leg was the priority, she also had to tend to his arm, she only waited until the innards of the bulb had half-set before beginning to apply the soothing jelly-like substance to his arm. She had used an entire bulb coating and binding his leg, and had to crack open their only remaining one to allow her to tend to his arm. 

  
  


Using her tail to hold his arm out in front of him towards the fire, she waited for the medicinal mass to turn to a wax-like texture, concern bubbling in her chest at how pale the woodcutter had gotten. She did her best to use the few linen bandages they had to wrap up his arm and leg, relieved to find they mostly maintained their clean white colour, meaning the aloettá had succeeded in stemming most of the bleeding. There was only a handful of the jelly-like medicine left, which after a lot of deliberation, she tentatively applied very small amounts of to his face to disinfect the few cuts present. She couldn’t very well bandage his face up, after all. She used her tail and her arms to, as gently as she could manage, lift Henry up on top of the wood storage seat. She laid him down and stuffed his empty knapsack with the fur pelt she had used to sit on while riding up front, creating an improvised pillow which she placed gently under his head. She knelt beside him for a moment, frowning at his tattered clothes and ravaged body. She rummaged under the seat opposite until she found their spare blanket, and carefully draped it over him.

  
  


“ _Azrielle needs to go outside and make sure Handsome is Ok…”_ She began, Henry’s eyes shut tight and his breathing shallow but steady, almost certain that he was too deep in sleep to hear a word she was saying.

  
  


“ _You were… you were very brave and saved our horses-”_ She stopped herself short, reminded that Ohtyl had fled and they currently only had the one injured horse. Whether he would return, or was even alive, she did not know. “ _You saved Handsome, he was brave like you are, stayed close even though he was hurt and scared._ ” Her voice faltered once more, reminded of how desperately she’d fought to close the distance between her and Henry, how viciously the beasts had been mauling him, leaving nothing but a fleeting hope that he was even still alive. She held his hand gently, squeezing it tight. She had got to him though, had she not? She hadn’t given up hope, even though she was scared and alone in that moment. She had to keep being brave now, for Henry. She kissed his forehead softly before getting up and removing the now bloodied blanket from around her shoulders and donning the woodcutter’s coat and gloves. 

  
  


She opened one of the doors and stepped out slowly, jumping at the sight of Handsome standing directly outside the door, chuffing hot air from his nostrils as he nuzzled against her coat. She pet his head gently, leaning herself against her tall fur covered friend, before turning back and lingering in the doorway for a moment. Henry was still, though his face looked less pained than it had before, more peaceful as if he were merely still asleep and none of the morning’s events had transpired. That was only if she ignored the cuts and bruising to his face, of course. Regardless, the numbing effects of the aloettá must be bringing him some semblance of comfort, and encouraged her that he would be fine left alone for a few moments while she tried to tend to their horse. She shut the door quietly, not wishing to wake her lover, before stepping down and turning her attention to Handsome. He whinnied loudly and shook his mane.

  
  


“ _Yes, yes, your daddy is fine. He was very courageous and so were you, not running off like your brother.”_ The horse blinked slowly, his tongue lolling from his mouth, his strange personality apparently not too dampened despite the events having just transpired and the injury he had received. 

  
  


“ _Now then, will you be a good gentle friend and let Azrielle help your leg?”_ The Az’kel inquired softly, kneeling down so that she was eye level with the bloodied and thoroughly bitten calf of the horse. Handsome whinnied once more and trotted backwards slightly, apparently not even liking her being close to his injured appendage let alone touching it. He reared up as he stumbled on one of the dead wolves, causing a spike of fear to shoot through Azrielle, reminded of the sheer size and power of her normally docile chauffeur. She held her hands up palms facing the horse, like she had seen Henry do when he had been spooked by her tail before, and soon enough the horse was calm again and limped slowly over towards the river where he began to drink. She studied his leg from a distance, noting that he struggled to put much weight on it, and if it worsened any further it would be a long time indeed before he was strong enough to pull their cart again. 

  
  


It took a few minutes of gentle persuasion, a few reassuring pets, and a bit of bribery by way of a handful of oats before she was able to get close enough to tend to him. The horse seemed anxious at first as she applied the cooling gel, but seemed to realise the pain subsided almost immediately, so reluctantly allowed her to apply the rest of the medicinal goo before binding it tightly with the last of their bandages. Handsome began to chew on one of her horns as she finished up, leaning his head down to investigate the curious linen wrappings now hugging his leg. He moved to nibble at the dressing and immediately stood up indignantly as Azrielle playfully slapped at his neck. 

  
  


“ _No, no! You be a good horse, no eating!”_ Azrielle proclaimed, crossing her arms across her chest and narrowing her eyes as she watched to see if her meaning had sunk in. Handsome’s ears twitched and his head slowly lowered, maintaining eye contact with Azrielle all the while, his long tongue moving slowly back towards the dressing upon his leg, prompting another gentle but meaningful slap upon his coat from the Az’kel. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, the patchwork horse staring at her dumbly and flicking its tail back and forth, impatiently waiting for her to turn her attention elsewhere so that he could munch the fabric she’d tied to him. She kept her eyes on him as she slowly backed around to the front of the cart, climbing up and retrieving a bale of hay with her tail which she threw to the ground heavily. This seemed to adequately distract the horse, who sauntered over limping noticeably less than before, before laying down to rest and slowly chomp his way through the hay bale. Azrielle grinned at having successfully navigated the stubborn animal, turning her attention instead to the carnage surrounding the carriage. 

  
  


It didn’t take more than a few minutes for her to locate their crossbow, a little splintered near the stock but otherwise undamaged as far as she could tell. There, lying beside one of the fallen wolves, was Henry’s blade. She hadn’t even seen that he’d had it during the fray, assuming in the moment that he was completely unarmed. She crouched down to retrieve it, the blade still dripping with thick ichor which she wiped against a patch of unsullied snow. As she went to lift it, she moved it by the open mouth of a wolf who had died at the hands of the blade. The length of the knife was only an inch or so longer than the canine’s teeth, causing Azrielle to appreciate just how lucky the woodcutter had been in surviving the encounter at all. As she stood up her back spasmed and complained, causing her to wince and groan. She probed at her back with her tail, finding the entire length of it to be sensitive and bruised, apparently having hurt herself more than she had supposed. Steadily, a lot slower than before, Azrielle wandered back to the carriage with the weaponry in her arms. 

  
  


As she passed Handsome she checked to see if he was behaving, throwing him a disapproving glance as he moved his tongue towards his bindings, stopping short and continuing to nibble on some hay once he realised Azrielle was watching. She took a moment to sit herself down in the driver’s seat, looking over the damage done to the horses reins. Ohtyl had snapped the lead connecting them both to the tree in his escape, but by knotting the remaining length together the thick leather strap was still usable and she reckoned she’d be able to attach Handsome to the cart no problem when they were ready to move again. As she held the cable-like length of leather in her gloved hands, the crossbow and knife beside her on the seat, she suddenly found tears to be streaming down her cheeks once more. What started as a few tears quickly descended into harsh sobs as she hugged her knees to her chest, overwhelmed by emotion which had been waiting for a lapse in the tense events of the morning to finally bubble forth. Though she was scared, worried deeply for her partner and almost certain she’d have nightmares of the events of this morning for weeks to come, these were sobs of relief more than they were of misery. After all, she’d gotten through it and kept Henry and herself alive. 

  
  


Just as she began to wipe the last of her tears from her eyes, there was an eager nudging from her side that caught her wildly off guard. Her tail raised in an instant ready to defend herself from the gnashing jaws of an oversized canine once more, a relieved gasp escaping her lips as the familiar dark shaggy coat of Ohtyl came into view. His eyes were wide and his coat steaming in the cold winter air of the morning, stepping back sheepishly as Azrielle raised her tail at him, as if expecting to be punished for his earlier cowardice. 

  
  


“ _Ohtyl! You had Azrielle so worried! Do not scare your Materyl like that!”_ Azrielle scolded in fluent Az’kel, an exotic flurry of rolling R’s and elongated vowel sounds that caused the horse to shake its head at the unfamiliar sounds. Ohtly was ready to rear up in defence of itself when Azrielle lunged at him, stopping short as he felt her gentle arms wrap around his sizable neck and hold him in an affectionate hug. Azrielle sniffled, quietly thanking him for returning, not blaming the creature for accidentally injuring Henry as she knew he was not the brightest star in the sky; though certainly brighter than his patchwork brother. Ohtyl, as if to defy this observation, began to chew vacantly on her horns much like Handsome had. She patted him gently, leaping down from the cart and cursing herself for doing so as her back jarred and twitched, before checking him over and checking the treeline for any pursuing wolves. It seemed those that had followed him had given up the chase, or at least lost interest, and that despite barging through Henry and the wolves alike he had sustained no obvious injuries.

  
  


It didn’t take long for Azrielle to guide the horses back into the reins, bribing them both with the last of the apples which were admittedly a tad mushy by now, but an effective tool nonetheless. She hadn’t fastened them in before herself, but had watched Henry do it once before and so gave it her best shot. It may not have been a traditional method for attaching the horses and their harnesses, but it seemed to do the job as she felt the carriage lurch with their steps. After taking a moment to move the half-eaten haybale between the two steeds, reminding them both in their respective mother-tongues that Handsome’s wound dressings were not for eating and receiving blank looks in reply, the emerald eyed woman entered the carriage once more. Henry was still sound asleep, and after checking over his bandages she was satisfied that the worst of the bleeding had long since stopped leaving him (hopefully) in stable enough condition. 

  
  


She took a few minutes to sit down opposite the woodcutter and relax while she set a large pot of snow atop the fireplace to boil for her water skin. She topped up the fire and placed a few loose logs on the floor ready to top it up if need be. All the while she talked to Henry, telling him that Ohtyl had come back and that he had apologised for accidentally ramming into him, how she had patched up Henry Junior and he seemed to be in good spirits, and how come to think of it maybe ‘Henry Junior’ wasn’t such a bad name after all. She found herself getting a tad carried away, a sudden ache of loneliness as she realised the water had long since boiled and her lover hadn’t spoken a single word let alone moved. She sighed, reminding herself that he would need plenty of rest to regain his strength, and that she had done all she could for now. She filled her waterskin with boiling water and placed it against her chest before fastening the jacket around it and throwing her blanket around her shoulders. She took the time to tuck Henry’s blanket under the seat covers and behind the backrests to make sure he was in no danger of falling off the seat while they moved. 

  
  


She left the carriage, whispering one last sweet goodbye, before hopping up into the rider’s seat with their map in one hand and her diary and pencil in the other. Thankful for yesterday’s riding experience, Azrielle was soon able to get the horses moving along the path once more, following the meandering river. With the path devoid of travellers and fairly straight with no divulging pathways, there was little effort on her part to guide the horses in the correct direction. They were moving noticeably slower than before, Ohtyl seeming to match the slight limping pace of his brother, but Azrielle was thankful for this. After all, the track was bumpy and the slower they went the better rest her oovatyal could get. Azrielle found herself scanning their surroundings frequently, with every slight noise the horses made or the splintering of a chunk of ice making its way down the river immediately putting her on edge. Thankfully however, there was no sign of wolves and the further they travelled the more her confidence grew that they were not pursuing. 

  
  


In the quieter moments Azrielle found her mind wandering to home, longing for the sun to kiss and caress her skin like it did down south, long since deprived of that simple comfort she had taken so sorely for granted. Even with the sun nearing its peak in the sky here, she scarcely felt its presence at all in the otherwise bitter air. She watched in alarm as a large piece of glacial melt careened downstream and caught the trunk of a tree along the bank, dragging it with a splintering crack down into the river with it. The horses seemed to notice, whinnying and moving noticeably further to the opposite side of the path to the frigid stream to their left. Reminded that she had not yet named the winding stretch of icy liquid, she spent an hour or so drafting names in her diary, only stopping once a fresh breeze reminded her that her hot water bottle was now simply a water bottle. 

  
  


Finding a suitable place to stop and allow the horses a breather, she returned to the cabin and set about boiling up some fresh water while she studied Henry’s condition. He had no fever as far as she could tell, having to repeatedly remind herself that humans as a rule were a great deal hotter than Az’kel in the first place. She tried to gently rouse him from his slumber, only succeeding in getting a few nonsensical grumbles and groans from the battered man. Instead she sat on the floor by his side, holding his hand in one hand and gently caressing his cheek with the other. She assumed he was in no state to eat, but worried that lying in the hot interior of the wagon might make him thirsty before too long, succeeding in propping him up with her tail and getting him to drink a few grateful mouthfuls from his waterskin. She herself wasn’t hungry, not even considering the idea, far too concerned for the lumberjack’s well-being to register her own needs. As soon as the water was boiled she refilled her waterskin, restocked the fireplace, and wished her lover farewell as she braved the cold once more to drive the cart further south. 

  
  


They travelled for the rest of the day, stopping only to clear fallen trees or ensure her lover was still breathing, making steady progress despite the start to the day and Handsome’s injuries. As the warm oranges of the day’s light began to fade behind the mountains to the west, Azrielle bit her lip and carefully studied the surroundings for any defensible or hidden position for them to set up camp. After all, the last thing she wanted was a repeat of this morning. After travelling for another hour in the fading light, Azrielle spotted a small opening through the woods to the east, managing to maneuver the cart through the treeline albeit scratching the exterior with close-passing branches, relieved to find a small rocky overhang under which the carriage could fit. She took the time to feed the horses, leaving them tied loosely to their reins wanting to keep them close, before checking in on Henry and swapping over her bottle’s contents for freshly warmed water. He was still fast asleep, though with a significantly more peaceful expression on his face, which Azrielle was pleased to see. She kissed him tenderly once more atop his forehead, her heart melting in her chest as his lips curled into a slight smile even despite being sound asleep. 

  
  


Such rest was not on Azrielle’s mind however, donning her outdoor clothes once more and taking the crossbow and quiver of bolts out with her as she sat out on the driver’s seat, beginning her night’s vigil. Under the light of the moon she practiced firing and loading the weapon, wiping away the splinters every few shots from the shoulder of her coat due to the damaged stock. She was alert and paid especially close attention to the behaviour of the sleeping horses, knowing perhaps they may hear approaching danger long before she might. She watched the stars steadily fade to grey as heavy storm clouds rolled in, thankfully sheltered from the worst of the snowfall under their overhang, though her vision suffered greatly due to the diminished light and obscuring crystalline flakes. There were a few tense moments when she was roused from her slumped almost sleeping form by a distant rustle or the crunching of snow, but after loosing a bolt in the direction she’d heard rustling last, whatever it was seemed to flee and leave the Az’kel in relative peace. 

  
  


As the clouds slowly parted and the amber rays of the sun painted the sky once more in the morning, Azrielle’s eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, her fingers long since numbed in the iron-like grasp she had of the ranged weapon. Handsome roused from his sleep and after trotting around the cart slightly, began to sniff and lick at the Az’kel’s tail, apparently either fascinated with it or determined to find part of it that was edible. She swatted him away with a tired giggle, feeding him a handful of oats which promptly awoke the darker coated horse who soon demanded feed of his own too. As she wiped their saliva on to the bottom of her coat, her eyes widened as she heard a confused shout from inside the carriage, followed by something impacting the walls. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle?”_ The hoarse voice called out, a clearly disorientated and fearful Henry having awoken to a distinct lack of Az’kel. Azrielle leapt off of the driver’s seat leaving the crossbow where it lay, shaking off the steady dusting of snow that had accumulated atop her blanket-shroud as she flung open the door.

  
  


“ _Azrielle is here! You are awake you are… oh no!”_ The immediately rejuvenated woman began, finding Henry on the floor and struggling to right himself using the fireplace as a hand hold. Thankfully the flames had died down a few hours prior, leaving his hand unburnt. His leg however was collapsed underneath him and she could tell by his pained expression that he must have tried to stand up only for it to buckle beneath him.

  
  


“ _I-I thought I’d lost you, what were you doing out there? The fire is out and I… “_ Azrielle silenced him with a tender kiss, coiling her arms and tail around his waist as delicately as she could whilst still helping to lift him up off of the floor and back on to the chair. Henry groaned as he tried to put his right arm around her, a sharp sting coursing through his forearm all the way to his elbow. Azrielle cooed and shushed him softly as she took his arm and placed it gently in his lap, straddling herself lightly on his good leg, taking his thoroughly bruised and battered face in her hands. 

  
  


“ _You were worried you’d lost me?”_ She almost laughed, tears in her eyes, kissing his cheek tenderly over and over, thankful for him to have woken up.

  
  


“ _Yeah I didn’t know where you… mmm… Azrielle that stings…”_ The woodcutter complained, wriggling his nose in discomfort reminding Azrielle of the lacerations across his cheeks. 

  
  


“ _Sorry Azrielle is just… so glad you are Ok”_ She chimed, sniffling a bit as she wiped her tears from her face with her sleeve. Henry chuckled, about to comment that she’d stolen his coat the moment he was injured, but immediately regretted the decision as his bruised ribs soon shot spikes of pain through his torso. This resulted in less of a laugh and more of a coughing, groaning sound. Azrielle frowned at him and gently squeezed his hand, waiting a few moments for him to gain his composure, using her tail to pick up and hand him his waterskin which he gratefully drank from.

  
  


“ _Gods, everything hurts”_ He managed, trying and succeeding to wiggle the toes of his damaged leg, but finding a little less success when he tried to move his fingers. Azrielle nuzzled against his neck gently as he did so, kissing him as softly as she could manage wherever he wasn’t hurt. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle can’t even imagine…”_ She began, feeling herself tearing up again as the image of him being dragged away and torn into flashed through her mind once more, clutching the back of his shirt tightly as she held him. Henry squinted and bit his lightly swollen lip as he tried to move his fingers more, straining and groaning as his stiff fingers struggled to bend and form a fist. 

  
  


“ _Hey, hey, hey, you’re going to hurt yourself my love, don’t strain so-”_ Azrielle began, swiftly cut off by the woodsman. 

  
  


“ _No, no it’s fine I just need… need to know if…”_ He closed one eye tight and grunted as his hand balled into a fist finally, holding it for a moment before releasing and allowing his fingers to lay flat against his thigh, suddenly feeling very light headed from the exertion. Azrielle held him still, looking to his hand with a mixture of thankfulness at his ability to move his fingers and concern for how badly it hurt him. 

  
  


“ _Still good?”_ She asked quietly, wanting to let him rest but eager to know the extent of his injuries. 

  
  


“ _Yeah… I think so. They all hurt and move a l-little”_ He began, taking another swig of water as a spike of pain caused him to feel nauseous. “ _But that’s probably a good thing_ ” He admitted, far too sore and groggy to complain any further. His eyes went wide and he held her face suddenly with his good hand, searching her face intently.

  
  


“ **_Are you hurt? T-the horses, are they…_ ** _”_ Henry’s panic subsided as the gorgeous dark-skinned woman’s smile reassured him, lowering his hand only for Azrielle to scoop it up and place it against her cheek once more as she explained that she hadn’t had so much of a scratch on her. As for the horses, she told him she’d tended to Handsome’s injured leg and that he had been well enough to carry them further south so she was optimistic he would heal in no time. As for Ohtyl, she sheepishly explained how he had accidentally endangered him, but returned not long after once he had presumably escaped his pursuing wolves. Henry scowled at learning one of his own steeds had betrayed him, muttering something about half oat rations for a week which made Azrielle giggle heartily. 

  
  


Azrielle insisted Henry stay put while she cooked up breakfast, following his guidelines to prepare a sizable bowl of oatmeal for him while frying up a generous portion of bacon for herself, having not eaten since the night before. The oatmeal was a little thick, and the bacon a tad crispy, but the Az’kel thought she had done a good job all things considered. She sat on the seat opposite him as they ate, though kept her tail looped around his waist just in case he passed out. His face was pale still, but she was relieved to see some colour return to his sliced up cheeks after he had gotten some food inside his belly. Soon after breakfast however, came a small argument but an argument nonetheless, the very first the new couple had experienced. 

  
  


Henry was insistent on wanting to sit up front with her while they rode, at first simply joking that he wanted to keep an eye on Ohtyl lest he betray them again and drive them straight into the river, but as Azrielle continued to refuse he eventually relented with the truth. He was scared for her. Even with his debilitating injuries, making it hurt to talk let alone stand, his only concern was for her safety. He wanted to be close to her to make sure she stayed warm and to make sure he was present if they encountered any trouble. At first Azrielle wouldn’t budge, insisting she was fine to take the lead and for him to rest, but the disappointed frown upon Henry’s lips at the prospect of being parted with her was eventually enough for her to relent. On shaky feet and with substantial support from the Az’kel’s tail, the pair slowly made their way round to the front of the cart, with Azrielle practically hoisting Henry up the step into the seat. Though he groaned and spluttered all manner of curses while they walked, his agony diminished to a manageable level once more once he was safely seated. Azrielle joined him after securing the horses, sitting to his left and hooking her arms around his good arm as they set off back towards the path with her guidance. 

  
  


Though the way was bumpy, scarcely worthy of the title of ‘path’ let alone ‘road’, they made steady progress alongside the river. It didn’t take more than a hour before exhaustion crept up on the courageous woman, soon finding herself curled up with her head in her lover’s lap, able to cling to consciousness for a few minutes but finally succumbing to slumber as Henry began playing with her hair comfortingly. Azrielle slept most of the day, far more exhausted than she had let on, not that Henry minded. It was soothing to be able to gently play with her soft hair, giving him something to focus on other than the numbed but still extremely potent pain of his savaged limbs. He made sure she was warm enough, draping his blanket over her as well as her own and placing his gloves on the ends of her horns to shelter them somewhat from the near constant drifting snowflakes. True to his word, Henry found himself occupying his mind and his time by scolding Ohtyl for being so careless and abandoning them, reminding him that he should help defend his _materyl_ and respect his _pateryl_ not use him as a speed-bump. The horse didn’t seem to care, with Handsome plodding slowly along beside him, drooling messily as he chewed his reins without a care in the world. 

  
  


Evening soon came around with Azrielle waking up and scooting inside to heat up her water bottle and fetch them an evening meal of ham and potato pieces, not wanting to stop to eat as she wanted to get as far away from where those dreadful beasts had attacked as possible. She sat with her legs over Henry’s lap and fed him slowly, met with much grumbling from Henry who insisted he was more than capable of feeding himself with his good hand. His lover of course was having none of it, sweetening the deal by interspacing his mouthfuls with occasional kisses which seemed to have the desired effect of quelling his complaints. As the light began to fade and the stars gained purchase amongst the thick blanket of clouds, the couple were faced with a new dilemma. How best to tackle the night. Both agreed that leaving the horses unattended again was out of the question, but neither was happy for one or the other to miss an entire night’s sleep. The compromise they came to was for Azrielle to keep watch for the first half of the night until her water bottle ran cold, then Henry would cover the rest of the night. 

  
  


That way both of them got some sleep in, whilst also keeping guard over their sturdy cart-pullers. Besides, with both Azrielle and Henry able to now ride together up front thanks to the unpopulated area and the warmth of her water-skin, they could take turns napping cuddled up against each other if they so wished. For a little over a week they travelled this way, finding the path increasingly fraught with obstacles whether it be fallen trees or portions of the track missing entirely having succumbed to the river. There was nothing they couldn’t muscle through or navigate around, however, and soon enough they were even able to remove Handsome’s bandages with his leg well on the way to being healed. This resulted in them picking up their pace once more, making it almost half way through the Peaks of Promise after almost ten days on the road. Their food reserves were running a little low, but they were finally permitted an admittedly somewhat sleepless routine, but a routine nonetheless. Henry had even taken the time to wash their clothes in the river early one morning while Azrielle slept, using the needle and thread from their medical supplies to fix his shirt as best he could. 

  
  


In the time they had travelled, he had also somewhat adjusted his gloves, tightening the wrists and sowing the fingertips backwards to shorten the fingers so they would fit Azrielle’s hands snuggly. After all, she needed them more than he did, and she had scarcely any control with the fingers flopping about comedically while she tried to handle the reins. He had also adjusted the hat to the best of his ability, adding two large holes through which her horns could fit, which Azrielle showed her gratefulness for via an inordinate amount of kissing and nuzzling. Much to the Az’kel’s surprise, Henry was also eager to learn how to braid her hair, having watched her braid and unbraid it a few times already on their journey. It was hard going to get right, given the stiffness and hardly mobile right hand of his, but eventually resorting to using his teeth to hold strands of hair steady he had managed to braid a single tiny strand of her silvery moon-like hair. Despite it being miniscule and a little off centre, Azrielle insisted on keeping it, resulting in her usual large warrior braid with an accompanying smaller braid off to one side. 

  
  


Despite the thankfully uneventful journey for the past few days, Henry couldn’t help but sense some tension between him and the Az’kel. She was as affectionate as ever, cuddling, nuzzling and gently squeezing him every chance she got; but she seemed to freeze up a little as if restraining herself, even catching her biting her lip and muttering under her breath at herself. Henry was about to confront her about it, the sun beginning to get low in the evening sky, when he spotted something unusual. For the first time since setting out on this path, the trail forked. Ahead of them it continued tracing the outskirts of the frigid river, but just off to the left was a small trail that meandered through the trees. He nudged Azrielle awake to alert her of it, and after some deliberation they guided the horses slowly up along the path amongst the trees. Henry had half expected some dilapidated long abandoned mining camp, knowing that they must be close to the famous blown-top mountain by now, but he was caught off guard when the trail led them into a clearing filled with rusted wagons and strange dome-like structures. Where Henry was confused, Azrielle was ecstatic however. An excited gasp escaped her lips as her feet pounded against the floor. 

  
  


“ _These are Az’kel buildings! Azrielle has seen these same things near her home, small villages of them near the red peaks!”_ She exclaimed, shaking Henry’s shoulder excitedly but quickly stopping as he groaned in discomfort. Henry raised a curious eyebrow, unsure of what to make of the scene before him. Apart from the strange spherical structures, it reminded him of a mining yard he’d frequented back in Lampveller. There were carts strewn about long abandoned, a few lumps of unprocessed stone in a pile off to one side, even a small sheltered area for the work animals to rest up between trips. The structures themselves were alien to him however, having never seen any building made of the strange rust-like metal or in the same egg-like shape as these. Azrielle was insistent she’d seen them before, but as to why they would be here in the middle of the frozen boreal forests of the north, neither of them could say. Regardless of the strange circumstance surrounding the structures, one of them which Azrielle insisted must have been a town hall of sorts, was big enough for them to ride the cart inside of. 

  
  


The inside was dusty but to both their amazement there was furniture, albeit sat disused for god knows how long. A large wooden table with a few simple wooden chairs, those of which were closest to the entryway had long since succumbed to rot and collapsed in on themselves. There were a few empty burlap sacks around the edges of the room, most full of holes and devoid of contents, and a severely rusted pickaxe which had succeeded in fusing to the metallic wall of the building itself. Azrielle pointed out the similarities to the buildings of its ilk she’d seen in the sands to the far south, noting how it seemed almost cobbled together with mismatched pieces of metal, all of which varied dramatically in some places in thickness. Some chunks near the base of the structure were as thick as Henry's torso, whereas sections near the roof had begun to be worn through by persistent rain and wind, barely even a few millimetres thick. Strange as it may be, the building offered them shelter they’d not yet been blessed with on their journey along this river, placing the heavy table up against the entrance to block the worst of the wind and any potential unwanted guests. 

  
  


Henry dusted his hands off as he scooted the table into place, now able to move his arm noticeably more than a week ago, though still hobbling with a pronounced limp and often needing Azrielle to help support him. He noticed the Az’kel eyeing him up from near the cart as she fed the horses, a smirk firmly across her lips. 

  
  


“ _You are looking better~”_ Azrielle cooed, batting her eyelashes and biting her lip, making it abundantly clear what she had in mind. Henry was caught off guard by her outright flirtiness, having noticed she was unusually reserved as far as that went the last few days, supposing she had been too concerned for his health to try anything sexual. Besides, they had not had the opportunity to sleep together since the attack due to them keeping watch, but now that they had someone sturdy to stay where the horses were safe…

  
  


“ _I’m feeling better. Better than I was anyway”_ He admitted, flexing his injured arm causing his lip to tremble with the effort and pain of it, but nevertheless impressing the Az’kel.

  
  


“ _Such a strong oovatyal, taking on that many wolves and surviving, even managing to kill one of them with his bare hands~”_ Azrielle began, sauntering slowly towards him, her eyes tracing up and down his body and lingering on his cuts and soon-to-be scars. Henry raised his good hand, a sheepish grin on his lips, about to correct her that actually he’d used the knife, only for her to curl her tail around his back to hold him upright as she pounced on him. Her arms were thrown around his neck, forcing him firmly into a deep passionate kiss, her tongue eagerly and lustfully exploring his mouth. As soon as the kiss had started it ended, Azrielle leaning back with a thick strand of saliva connecting their lips as she smirked up at him with her eyes full of lust.

  
  


“ _Azrielle wants you inside of her~”_ She half instructed, half pleaded, her tone of voice sitting somewhere between desperate and aroused. Henry blinked dumbly, blindsided by just how turned on she’d gotten in so short a time. His mouth hung open, momentarily stunned, only for Azrielle to giggle and take advantage; eagerly and sensually suckling on his tongue. As she did so, Henry found his good hand being guided down beneath the fabric of her dress, using the tip of her tail to move her drenched panties to the side and push two of his fingers up into her slick practically dripping honey-pot. She was warm and welcoming to the touch, moaning and shuddering softly as his fingers pushed deeper between her tight wet walls. He felt some of her lust drip messily down onto his palm, the Az’kel guiding his fingers out of her as swiftly as she’d pushed them in, guiding his hand up to her face as she stopped caressing his tongue with her own. Instead, she slowly and lustfully lapped her mess from his fingers, sucking on them one by one and ensuring she kept constant eye contact. Once she had finished, licking her lips, her eyes flitted down to his crotch with a smug grin as she spied his bulge.

  
  


From behind her, one of the horses chuffed loudly. She turned in surprise to see Handsome stood directly behind her, his tongue hanging loosely from his mouth as he stared at them both. Whether he wanted a snack or simply attention, all he received was laughter from the Az’kel at his silliness and a death glare from the woodcutter at potentially souring the mood. 

  
  


“ _Let’s go somewhere private~”_ Azrielle teased, not waiting for a reply as she half lifted half dragged Henry towards the carriage and pushed him playfully inside. Despite her clear enthusiasm, she was careful with him, her tail wrapped securely around him and guiding him down into his seat even as she pretended to push him with her hands into a sitting position. Her tail uncoiled and slammed the door to the carriage shut while her hands were busy unbuttoning his trousers. No sooner had his cock sprang forth from his boxers, than had Azrielle descended upon it with her tongue. She licked it greedily from base to tip, fluttering her smokey eyelashes at him before pushing the member effortlessly past her tongue and into her throat. 

  
  


She throated him messily and eagerly, even encouraging Henry’s hand to the back of her head to guide her head movements, her eyes begging and encouraging him to be as rough as he wanted. Soon enough thick bubbles of spittle were beginning to dribble down his shaft with Azrielle having freed her breasts from the confines of her dress stealthily at some point during the encounter. Her sizable caramel coloured orbs bounced with each and every movement of her head, her nipples fully erect and beginning to dampen with splashes of precum and saliva from her eager movements. Henry gripped her hair hard as he felt himself get close, prompting Azrielle to press her lips firmly against the base of his cock. Her horns pressed hard against his bruised abdomen, but he didn’t care. He clenched his fist as his cock twitched and throbbed, depositing a thick and sizable load of his cream directly into her throat. Azrielle gulped her lover’s lust down greedily, her tail pressed firmly between her thighs with one of the thick armoured scales damp from where she’d been grinding against it. 

  
  


“ _F-fuck…_ ” The woodcutter managed, watching in awe as his cock slipped out of her throat, a smug grin upon her lips as she began lustfully licking it clean. 

  
  


“ _Is that it for tonight?~”_ Azrielle questioned, trying her hardest to exercise restraint and make sure her lover did not overexert himself. Henry shook his head fervently however, having been fairly pent up by the lack of sex over the past few nights. Azrielle smirked, secretly hoping this to be his answer, even if it might result in a little more bruising for her boyfriend. Azrielle brought her tail up to her face, licking the glistening slick mess of her lust from one of the great scales as she crawled her way up his body until his cock was firmly between her thighs.

  
  


“ _How badly do you want Azrielle?~”_ She teased, leaning down and licking his neck slowly and deliberately as she awaited his reply. 

  
  


“ _R-really fucking bad…”_ Henry managed, shivering slightly from the stimulation to his sensitive neck, his cock already twitching back to a full erection between her soft thighs. Azrielle giggled, sensually and melodically, swirling a finger against his chest as her tail rattled. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle is all yours~”_ She cooed, keeping eye contact with him as she raised her hand up and bit into her finger. There was a slight trickle of blood from where her fangs met her skin, and for a moment Henry stared in confusion, having all but forgotten about her potent aphrodisiac. Azrielle all at once descended upon him, a flurry of giggles and tongue as she fiercely and passionately placed her lips against his and her tongue in his mouth. She suckled and lapped at his tongue as if in a stupor, moaning and shuddering in pleasure as she gripped his good hand and forced it against her breasts. He obliged immediately, groping and squeezing her breasts, all manner of lustful sounds escaping her lips albeit muffled by his lips. Her rear was now positioned mere inches above his cock, with thick clear strands of lust dripping steadily from her pussy down onto his cock. She shuddered and whimpered as his fingers found one of her rock hard nipples, pinching and pulling on it causing her to quickly drool and plead with him for more.

  
  


“ _H-harder, fuck, mmmm yes, yes_ **_yes!_ ** _”_ She moaned, her tongue lolling from her mouth slightly as she threw her head back in ecstasy, so much of her lust dripping down on to his twitching hot shaft that the woodcutter suspected she might have even climaxed from nipple play alone. Whether or not she had had no bearing on how satisfied she was however, quickly lowering herself onto his cock, grinning at him and drooling slightly from the corner of her mouth as she felt his hot manhood push up into her insides. She leaned forward, her lips messily against his again, guiding his still recovering arm to her rear. It hurt to move, but Henry had no doubt in his mind that the pain was worth it the moment he grabbed a handful of her exquisitely soft ass. He squeezed hard, but apparently left the fiercely aroused Az’kel wanting, directing her hand on top of his and forcing him to squeeze her ass harder. He was sure his fingers would leave marks if not bruises at this rate, but Azrielle seemed to want that. 

  
  


She bounced up and down on his cock quickly and messily, quite literally leaking honey scented lust down his shaft and balls as his girthy manhood battered her cervix over and over. Her walls pulsed and squeezed his shaft rhythmically as if she were climaxing, clamping down on his cock in waved moving from the base of his shaft all the way to his tip. Even after having come so recently, it was hard to resist her hot tight walls practically milking his member, begging for him to finish deep inside of her. He gritted his teeth and closed one eye, trying his hardest not to cum so soon, overwhelmed by the onslaught of kisses and licking and nibbling along his neck. It took all her willpower not to bite him and turn him on as fiercely as she was, but even in her intoxicatingly lustful state she prioritised his health over her fun. Even so, she slammed her ass down against him repeatedly and roughly, moaning and trembling as she came again and again, squirting her hot sticky juices over his cock as she pumped it into her over and over.

  
  


As much as he tried to hold out, there was only so long he could resist her rhythmic milking movements and those loud unrestrained moans of pure pleasure, leaning forward and biting her neck roughly as he gripped her ass in both hands. He held her down against him hard, using his teeth and hands in equal measure to keep her still, something that would have got Azrielle drenched were she not leaking lust already. She could feel every inch of his cock pressed up inside of her, the tip pulsing and throbbing at the entrance of her womb, trying to force herself down against him further and push him just that little bit deeper. She trembled and whimpered pitifully out of raw sexual desire with his teeth at her neck and his cock shooting rope after thick rope of cum inside of her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head slightly as she felt that familiar thick warmth in her stomach, rocking her hips to make sure she squeezed every last drop of his lust into her, begging to be filled up completely as she whimpered and moaned again and again. 

  
  


For several more minutes Azrielle rocked and fucked herself against his still hard cock, eyes locked firmly with Henry’s as she moaned out his name, begged for more of his seed, for him to fill her up again and again, pleading for one more load inside of her. Her pussy quivered and dripped a thick mixture of their lust, which once Azrielle sensed Henry was out for the count, she swiftly got down to her knees and began lapping and sucking from his cock. She wanted to swallow every last drop of their lust, not wanting any of it to go to waste. She suckled and lapped at his balls hungrily as she licked them clean of a mixture of her saliva, her honey, and her man’s tasty cream. As she licked her lips and shuddered, rubbing out one last orgasm with her tail tip against her clit, her pupils noticeably shrank and she smiled shyly up at Henry who sat exhausted and bewildered. She clambered up on to him slowly, taking care to avoid his bad leg and nestling herself down against his lap.

  
  


“ _Was that good for you?~”_ She teased, blushing fiercely as she had never indulged in her own erotic venom in the company of another before. Henry nodded tiredly, his cock aching slightly from the overstimulation, a sensation that was entirely new to him.

  
  


“ _So rough…”_ He managed, finally finding his breath and clearing his thoughts enough to talk. Azrielle sat bolt upright, her eyes open in a flash and her hands to her face in shock. 

  
  


“ _No, was Azrielle too rough with her oovatyal? Should have known better, Azrielle is sorry”_ She rattled off quickly, repositioning herself to his side and cuddling her cheek against his face as she made noises not dissimilar to a whimpering puppy.

  
  


“ _I’m fine, that was fun I’m… Azrielle really I’m fine”_ Henry remarked, having no energy to resist as his lover gently guided his head down to her lap, using her thick soft thighs as a pillow. She made gentle shushing noises as she stroked his face and wire-like hair with her finger tips, using her tail to fish out a blanket to cover him with.

  
  


“ _That is good, yes, but Azrielle was a little careless. Need to take care of my brave oovatyal~”_ She admitted shyly, her tone of voice soft and pleasant, warming Henry’s heart and encouraging the drowsiness in his mind. It didn’t take long for the woodsman to fall asleep against her lap, with the Az’kel fetching his knapsack stuffed with furs to prop against the wall and use as a pillow, succumbing to sleep herself shortly after with her tail coiled protectively around her sleeping boyfriend. 

  
  


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I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and congratulations to those supporters who voted for exploring what happens when an Az’kel samples her own venom ;P

Two decisions for you sweet supporters of mine this week! One lewd, and one much more relaxed~

(Remember, you can support the story and vote, as well as getting access to additional goodies by checking out my twitter! <https://twitter.com/SmutKnight> <3)

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First decision: how should our lovers explore one another sexually in the next chapter?

  1. Have Azrielle use her natural aphrodisiac on Henry! As if one load of his lust wasn't enough to fill his feisty albeit petite companion~  
  

  2. Have Azrielle take the lead! With Henry injured Azrielle could embrace her caring femdom side, ensuring Henry is taken care of properly~  
  

  3. Have Henry take the lead! What better way to ensure he does not overexert himself than by submitting herself to him completely?~  
  

  4. A night of passionate and romantic (albeit gentle) love-making! Lovey-dovey, kisses and cuddles, and a whole lot of mess to be made~  
  




Second decision: How should our lovers solve their food dilemma? After all while there’s still plenty of potatoes, oats and onions, good luck getting Azrielle to eat any of it!

  1. Go fishing! Henry knows she likes fish, and a nice relaxing day by the river might do them both good!  
  

  2. Forage the forest and hunt small game! Plenty of birds and rabbits alike, with maybe a few plants that could be of interest, too!  
  

  3. Track a deer or other large beast! Stealth and prowess are paramount, but for the most part it's a refreshing trek through the woodlands!



  
  



	6. Past The Trail’s End

  
  


Despite the luxuriously comfortable pillow that was Azrielle’s lap, Henry had a hard time sleeping. Though his mobility had undoubtedly improved since their encounter with the wolves, the numbing effect of the Az’kel’s medicinal plant had waned considerably. Every slight shifting of his limbs shot a fresh spike of pain through his system, jolting him awake and more often than not finding himself having to bite down on his finger lest he cry out and awaken his lover. After spending half the night trying his damndest to keep still and spare himself from the worst of the pain, only managing a few hours between the near unbearable throbbing of his wounds, he decided to give up and get an early start to the day; an attempt to turn his inability to rest into something productive.

  
  


Sitting up was difficult, especially with his lover’s weighty tail resting over his thighs and dangling over the edge of the seat, no doubt deliberately positioned to keep him from falling off the seat in his slumber. Eventually, gritting his teeth and enduring a burst of discomfort as his still weak fingers strained to hold firm, he was able to sit himself up using the backrest as a hand hold. He paused for a moment, deciding on the best way to deal with the heavy appendage. Under normal circumstances he would have no trouble lifting it off of him, after all he’d lifted her up plenty of times by now. But with one wrist worse for wear and his right forearm still more closely resembling a well tenderised steak than a functional body part; it wasn’t even worth the effort of trying to lift it. Ideally, he would have wanted to sneak off and not disturb his partner, allowing her a plentiful and well needed rest. As it stood however, he wasn’t going anywhere unless she allowed it. 

  
  


“ _Hey beautiful, you awake?”_ Henry asked softly, twisting his torso uncomfortably to face her. He gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand as he spoke, still amazed at how soft her skin felt despite touching it uncountable times over the past two weeks. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, her lips pursed and her nose scrunched up in brief confusion at having her sleep disturbed. After a brief pause, her eyes fluttered open sleepily, smiling weakly though as sweetly as ever at her oovatyal.

  
  


“ _Mm?”_ Azrielle mumbled. Henry chuckled softly, amused that such a standard sleepy vocalisation of inquiry and acknowledgement was common between their species. He moved the small braid he had made the day before from her face, tucking it neatly behind her ear. The Az’kel’s eyelids struggled to stay open, drifting closer and closer to closing once more giving Henry immense guilt at having awoken her. 

  
  


“ _I can’t sleep, I think I’m going to go get some more wood until it’s time to get up and moving. Could you move your tail for me?”_ Henry informed her quietly, watching as her head settled back against his backpack she was using as a pillow. Her eyes were closed once more, a peaceful look returning to her face as she found herself comfortable again.

  
  


“ _Ok…”_ She mumbled almost inaudibly, her legs shifting slightly as she stretched, her lips curling into a visibly delighted smile as her feet moved closer to the warmth of the steadily crackling fireplace. Henry waited a moment for her to move her tail, but it remained stationary, forcing him to interrupt her sleep once more.

  
  


“ _Sweetheart?”_ Henry urged, patting her tail to reaffirm his request. Azrielle’s eyes stayed closed this time, a soft disgruntled noise escaping her lips as her nose wrinkled once more, tiredly sliding her tail down past his legs until it was resting on the seat itself just past his feet. The movement of the enormous scaled appendage over his calf caused a flash of indescribable pain, involuntarily sucking air into his lungs as he gritted his teeth and tried with all his might to fight back the tears forming in his eyes. Taking a few moments to let the searing heat in his calf to simmer down, he was eventually able to move his legs to the side and with an inordinate amount of effort and get to his feet. 

  
  


He took a moment to let his body wake up fully, shifting his weight between his feet, able to clearly feel the distinct difference in functionality his legs now possessed. He couldn’t recall most of the attack, only able to remember fragments of blurred vision and thrashing about on the cold hard ground, followed by Azrielle’s face close to his with a beautiful sunrise behind her peeking through the trees. He supposed that was for the best, after all if his injuries hurt this much days later, the pain at the time must have been excruciating. On top of that, Azrielle had been deliberately obtuse when describing his injuries, most of which he had still not seen due to the thick linen wrappings affixed to his limbs. Due to the fact he could still move his fingers and toes and even hobble about on his own without his faithful Az’kel supporting him, he tried not to worry about them too much. 

  
  


Spotting the fire was getting low, he added a few more roughly hewn logs into their personal heater. Now down on one knee, putting off the idea of getting back to his feet for as long as possible knowing full well it would not be a fun experience, he noticed his reflection staring back at him in the glass of the furnace’s door. The rake-like gashes across the lower half of his face were as pronounced as they were numerous. Most were almost completely horizontal, with a few of the slowly healing grooves that spanned his cheeks and chin overlapping each other. His bottom lip had not come out unscathed from the onslaught of fangs, either. There was a diagonal gash beginning at the corner of his mouth and tapering off a little less than halfway along his lip, incredibly sore to the touch and prone to opening up anew if he opened his mouth too wide. He frowned, pondering the likelihood of such an injury being permanent. After a moment of quite literal self reflection, he found himself rather silly worrying about the aesthetics of his face when his other injuries were far more severe, and with great effort he got to his feet once more. 

  
  


Donning his coat and boots, he took a moment to realise just how raggedy his outfit looked now, even after his admittedly poor attempts to stitch the numerous holes and tears shut. Even his boots had great grooves along them where teeth had raked the leather, though he was thankful it was his footwear and not his foot that had bore the brunt of that particular bite. Henry made a mental note to get some new clothes for himself as well as his lover, if the opportunity presented itself. As much as he loved how her maid outfit hugged her curves, it would be nice for her to be able to leave the carriage without swaddling herself in blankets and furs, or having to borrow his winter coat. He buckled the axe to his belt, fishing the crossbow and quiver out from the underseat storage, holding the splintered wooden bolt thrower in his hands. Azrielle and himself had both agreed it was best to keep it on their person whenever not in the relative safety of the carriage, and though it was admittedly very difficult for him with his injured arm to load the damn thing, he wanted to honour his word and bring it with him anyway. Besides, it was loaded and ready, so if anything should attempt to maul him once more he’d at least have one chance to send it packing. 

  
  


Taking one final moment to appreciate the gorgeous milky brown skinned beauty sound asleep cuddled up in the corner of the carriage, he quietly opened the door and hobbled outside. Immediately his breath was visible in the beams of moonlight that permeated the porous roof of the rusted metal structure. He shivered involuntarily despite his fur lined coat, having sorely taken for granted just how toasty the interior of their vehicle was when compared to the bitter early morning air. His cheeks stung from the cold and his fingertips soon lost their feeling, momentarily kicking himself for having adjusted his gloves to fit the diminutive woman’s hands meaning he could no longer wear them himself. He shook his head, cursing his kindness with a slight smile as he remembered how she had showered him with affection when he had first presented them to her. 

  
  


Though his limp was pronounced and slowed his gait significantly, he was in no rush, and slowly circled round the cart to check on the horses. Both Ohtyl and Handsome were sound asleep, with the darker steed curled up sensibly and his patchwork companion sprawled out on his side. His tongue lolled from his mouth, flapping back and forth rapidly each time he breathed out. Henry couldn’t help but shake his head, approaching as quietly as he could on the cold dusty floor deciding it was probably best to check on his leg. Judging by how quickly his wound had healed, even with the dimwitted beast having chewed his wound dressing to bits by the very evening of the day he’s received them, they must have only been superficial. The flesh was still pink and scabbed in places, but he’d long since stopped limping and his appetite hadn’t suffered in the slightest. If anything, he’d been fed substantially more than before thanks to begging Azrielle for treats and her easily giving in to him for being a ‘brave friend’. 

  
  


Satisfied his dopey namesake was completely fine and well, Henry decided to shuffle around the entirety of the circular abode, taking great interest in the mismatched almost patchwork collage of metal that comprised the wall. While it was true the structure was vaguely circular in shape, the metallic slabs were not curved themselves. Rather, the tile-like objects ranged anywhere from completely flat, to seemingly deliberately bent at nearly forty five degree angles in order to allow the tile above it to slant more and more until forming the roof. More curiously however, was that the mostly square shaped chunks of metal seemed to have been fused together rather than slotted or bonded together with some kind of mortar as a bonding agent. Though his knowledge of metalworking was limited to what he happened to see as he strolled by Lampveller’s blacksmith as he headed to the local market, he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around how these curious plates had been attached to one another. Either they had been placed atop each other whilst still fresh from the forge and melted into each other, or more concerningly, they had simply been balanced precariously together and the thick coating of rust merely gave the illusion of them being adjoined. Feeling a slight pang of panic in his stomach at the thought of the potentially unstable structure surrounding him, he decided it best to exit the building and get to gathering wood. 

  
  


Hobbling towards the partially rotted table the pair had propped in the entryway, Henry almost stumbled and fell as his foot caught on something protruding from the cold dust-covered earth. As he was practically down on one knee anyway thanks to the object snagging his foot, he decided to crouch down fully and inspect whatever it was that had almost toppled him. Though the light was extremely dim, reaching down it was clear the object was some kind of fur or pelt just by the feel of it. Though he tried to lift it, it took some effort, revealing that a significant portion of the pelt had been embedded in the dust and dried muck of the floor itself. Holding it before him, it was clearly heavily deteriorated and tattered, but the grey fur tufts were unmistakably that of a wolf. He smirked to himself, almost tempted to keep the raggedy strip of wolf pelt as a keepsake in celebration of his survival when faced with it’s kind, though ultimately deciding against it and discarding it on the floor once more. 

  
  


Though it was more than a little uncomfortable to do so, Henry managed to remove their improvised barricade from the entrance with relatively little noise, sliding it backwards a foot or so so that he could squeeze past it out of the large egg-shaped abode. Immediately the woodcutter was reminded of just how brutal the early winter winds were, cutting effortlessly through his coat and causing him to cross his arms protectively against his chest as if trying to cling to the last of his warmth. Though the prospect of turning right round and sheltering from the wind appealed to him greatly, he steeled himself and rubbed his rapidly numbing hands together as he stepped further into the small settlement. Though the sun would still not rise for another few hours, the sky was largely cloudless and the light of the moon made it easy enough to see where he was going. 

  
  


His curiosity surrounding this settlement far from satisfied, or perhaps just procrastinating taking up his hatchet knowing full well that swinging it would cause a great deal of pain, Henry decided to investigate the rest of the clustered buildings. Just as he had supposed, there were a few clearly human buildings here, or rather were here once. Rotted wooden beams and snow-dusted stone building blocks betrayed what he supposed at one time to be a forge besides the long abandoned stables he’d spotted when they’d arrived. Taking a closer look, the stable itself was in much worse condition than he supposed, the walls brittle and rotted away and the roof itself having long since disintegrated away from the elements it once protected it’s residents from. It filled him with a sense of nostalgia looking about the ruined mining community, reminding him greatly of the ruins he’d spent his youth building dens in and briefly sheltered his lover in all those nights ago. Though there was a certain sadness in seeing such ill-cared for buildings, the fact they were very clearly long abandoned quelled any fears that they may meet anyone along this stretch of untamed wilderness.

  
  


Turning his attention to the other metallic dome-like buildings, of which there were only a handful albeit much smaller than the one they had taken shelter in, he took his time in carefully exploring the interior of each one. They were all of a similar construction to the first, tiles of battered looking metal long since rusted into a peculiar almost rock-like texture, all of which varied enormously in their size and thickness. One of the abodes had an enormous semi-circle shaped continuous strip of metal at its base, the thickness of which was quite frankly absurd for such a small structure. It was a little over a foot in thickness, with the majority of the other metallic components comprising the structure only being an inch or so thick at most, making it all the more mysterious as to why they’d opted for such an excessive thickness. Equally strange was that it was distinct from the other hunks of metal he’d seen so far as there were several roughly circular sections, both along the interior and exterior of it’s length that lacked rust entirely. As opposed to the standard oranges and browns of rust, these circular indents were a dull dark grey colour and almost completely smooth to the touch. Henry scratched his head, puzzling over the wildly inconsistent architectural choices whatever Az’kel had built these had opted to make. 

  
  


At least they had the good sense to put the thickest pieces closest to the ground, he mused. The interiors were much the same as the largest structure, with a few sacks and cloth scraps probably used by whatever miners had claimed this an outpost, and even a few more ruined and tattered remains of wolf pelts. Though the majority of the hut’s contents was dust and piled snow. A little disappointed to find nothing of use, he limped his way out of the final shack-like building and set off towards a particularly thin looking pine tree on the outskirts of the settlement’s clearing. Though it wouldn't provide much fuel for their travel-sized hearth, he doubted he could make much headway on a larger tree given his still healing arm. As he made his way towards it, gazing for a moment up at the clusters of stars adorning the charcoal black sky, he almost ran right into a snow coated chunk of metal jutting out of the ground. Stepping over it carefully, wiping some snow off of it and immediately regretting the decision as the frost stung his fingertips, he realised it was another rusted tile. Looking around, there was almost a complete circle of these such shapes, though only at the ground level and leaving a much bigger gap for an entryway that it’s more completed counterparts. Either the miners and prospectors had stripped this one down for it’s metal plates, or the hamlet’s original inhabitants never finished construction. 

  
  


Making his way towards his intended target of soon-to-be timber, he unfastened the axe from his belt and placed the crossbow down leaning against the tree’s base. After spending some time clenching and unclenching his fingers and blowing on them for warmth until he had some semblance of sensation in them once more, he gripped the shaft firmly and swung towards the trunk. Agony. Blurred vision. Blackness. 

  
  


Henry gasped as he awoke, laying on his side in the thick snow that covered the boreal forest’s floor. His body was cold, his chest tingling and feeling oddly heavy as he heaved bitter air into his lungs, all except for his arm. His arm felt as if it were resting on a bed of coals, throbbing and pulsing every few seconds sending agonised waves throughout his body which metastasized as grunts and faint whimpers. The lumberjack simply lay in place for what felt like an eternity, his vision seeming to blur sharply with every bout of pain his arm supplied him with, the near unbearable sensation steadily reducing bit by bit until his arm returned to a more constant albeit still painful state of being. Slowly, he managed to sit himself up. A light dusting of snow shifted from his shoulders, and looking up it brought him great relief to find the moon in much the same place he remembered it to be, reassuring him that he had not been unconscious for too long. 

  
  


For a moment panic gripped his system and he jerked his head around to make sure no predators, wolves or otherwise, had taken his lapse in consciousness as an invitation to make their approach. He was alone however. Just him, the trees, and the sheepish embarrassment that now crept into his cheeks. He was a fool to have attempted such a physically demanding task, let alone by himself. As he checked over his arm, relieved and quite frankly surprised to find the bandaging on his arm was much the same cream colour, he cursed himself over and over. What if he hadn’t woken up so soon and had frozen to death under a blanket of snow? What if he had fallen forwards and smashed his head off the very trunk he’d so foolishly struck? It wasn’t until the ramifications of such an event meant for the Az’kel, blissfully unaware of his unwise and quite frankly dangerous actions and sound asleep in her home on wheels, that the gravity of the situation dawned on him. A solitary tear traced his face, traversing the scars and scabs littering his cheeks and chin, finally soaking into the snow beneath him.

  
  


Carefully as he could, Henry crawled towards the tree and retrieved his axe and crossbow, promising himself he’d not be so reckless again as he unsteadily got to his feet and limped back towards their shelter. Before even getting halfway back, he found himself dropping his axe, swearing it had quadrupled in weight since he started walking. After a few embarrassing attempts to pick it up from the snow, the cold and fierce aching of his arms making his fingers fail to grip, with a defeated sigh he tucked the crossbow under his arm and picked it up with his good hand. The Lumberjack that had left their shelter not a few minutes before, full of intrigue and desire to not waste his sleepless morning hours, now hobbled back in flush with shame and embarrassment. As he scooted past the large wooden table partially obstructing the entrance, squinting in the comparative dark of the rusted dome, he groaned as a familiar silhouette stood facing him. 

  
  


“ _Handsome, I’m really not in the mood right now, pal.”_ Henry sighed, turning his back to the horse as he groaned and strained to shunt the table back in place. When he turned once more, his eyes now adjusted to the dimly lit space, he was surprised to find Ohtyl stood before him in his thick dark coat. The horse seemed a little alarmed, perhaps having heard the distant dull crack of Henry’s poor attempt at felling an unsuspecting pine tree. It’s ears twitched and it shuffled anxiously on it’s hooves.

  
  


“ _Easy now, we’re all good here. That was just me being… that was just your Pateryl being silly.”_ Henry began, grimacing at using such cutesy talk when Azrielle was nowhere near. For a moment he had almost caught himself thinking he **had** to use the Az’kel language when talking to this particular horse for him to understand what he was saying, as if anything but the tone of what came out his mouth mattered to the beast before him. Even so, the horse became visibly more relaxed and slowly trotted up to the snow-dusted would-be woodcutter.

  
  


“ _Oh you’re finally apologising are you? Damn near got me killed you stupid git.”_ Henry scolded, still harbouring somewhat of a grudge against the animal, no matter how irrational. After all, had he himself not wanted to run too? He sighed loudly once more, patting his dark shaggy fur. Reluctantly, grumbling all the while, Henry found himself making his way over to the front of the carriage and producing a handful of oats for the no good assailant. As the steed gently nibbled away at the feed in his hand, Henry couldn’t help but smile, patting him on his nose before heading quietly inside. A quick check on the sleeping beauty, who had since slumped down fully onto the seat and coiled her tail partially around herself, he gently placed a blanket over her sleeping form before retrieving the woodworking chisel from their storage. As quietly as he had entered, Henry left the carriage, pulling up a chair and sitting himself next to Ohtyl and the still sleeping Handsome. 

  
  


By the time Azrielle had awoken, the sun had been up for an hour or more already, providing a dull almost eerie glow to the largely orange coloured interior of their rusted abode. Having grown accustomed to waking up without her lover by her side, thanks to their shifts of watching over the horses, she did not panic when she awoke alone in the wagon. Stepping sleepily outside of the carriage as she rubbed her eyes with one hand and absentmindedly trying to fix her dress which still hung below her bosom from last night with the other, she blinked in confusion at the sight before her. There Henry was sat, a small pile of what looked to be wood shavings and splinters below him, and both of her horses stood in front of him apparently mesmerised by whatever it was he was doing. 

  
  


“ _Good morning my gentle men~”_ Azrielle cooed, trying her best to look seductive as she leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms across her chest. Before Henry could even respond, a massive chill ran up the horned woman’s spine and she dove back indoors, emerging once more with her blanket bundled about her. 

  
  


“ _‘Morning beautiful, how’d you sleep?”_ Henry inquired, smiling warmly at her as her tail rattled out, as it always did when he called her beautiful. She practically skipped over to him, changing direction at the last moment to cling to and adore her enormous four legged friends. The woodsman couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed she hadn’t come to him first, quickly smiling once more as he shook his head, the awkward and desperately confused expression on Henry Jr.’s face as she wrapped her tail around him to hug him bringing the woodcutter great joy. 

  
  


“ _Big sleep, many comfort and… uh…”_ She continued to run her fingers through Handsome's shaggy coat as she spoke, opting instead to scratch her chin with the tip of her tail as she tried to think of the word. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle had the gift of…_ **_somnar’ek_ ** _… hm. Azrielle does not know what is human for- '' She_ began, her eyes widening in surprise as Henry seemed to nod in complete understanding, offering up the word she desired unprompted. 

  
  


“ _Do you mean dreams?”_ Henry inquired, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Without warning Azrielle had decided she had given the horses ample amounts of love, and now it was Henry’s turn. She sauntered forward deliberately making sure to rock her hips side to side just a little more than her natural gait would usually permit, her eyes locked firmly on her oovatyal as she batted her eyelashes alluringly. Henry’s heart skipped a beat, his cheeks flushing red almost immediately, seemingly frozen in place as the curvy Az’kel woman straddled him as she had done so many times before. She gazed at him for a moment, before letting out a joyous melodic giggle, leaning forward and planting a delicate kiss on the man’s nose. 

  
  


“ _Dreams~ What are dreams for Henry?”_ Azrielle inquired, a slight almost imperceptible suspicion appearing on her face for a moment, finding her lover’s bodyheat much colder than she expected for someone she assumed had also just woken up; evidently not remembering anything of her half-asleep conversation with him earlier in the morning.

  
  


“ _Well they uh, they are like stories or even memories I guess. Of things that feel like they happened but haven’t really. This one time I had a dream where I was a stuck in the middle of a lake and there were loads of fish circling around me, but they all had human faces and kept trying to bite my toes whenever I…”_ Henry stopped, confused by the absolutely perplexed look upon his girlfriend’s face.

  
  


“ _That is dreams?!”_ She asked, flabbergasted and alarmed at this discovery. Now Henry looked just as lost as she was, wondering if perhaps something had been lost in translation. 

  
  


“ _You don’t have dreams… er, somnar’ek_ _like that? Really weird and nonsensical or even just kinda mundane?”_ He inquired, receiving a resounding no in response. 

  
  


“ _Somnar’ek are like… warm and happy. There is no fish-human people or toe biting! None of this ‘mundane’ either!”_ Azrielle explained, narrowing her eyes as she began to suspect perhaps he was joking around with her. Henry blinked at her slowly, trying to understand what she was saying. 

  
  


“ _So you just_ **_feel_ ** _good? Really warm and content? That’s it, no imagery or sounds or anything?”_ Azrielle opened her mouth, with Henry quickly explaining that by ‘imagery’ he meant things she could see, prompting Azrielle to plant another kiss upon his nose as a thanks for explaining it to her. 

  
  


“ _Yes, it's like… sleep happiness. When sleep smiles very much, nothing for Azrielle to see~”_ She concluded, gently caressing the man’s face, eyeing up his cuts and thinking to herself just how lucky she was to be with him; even if he had exceedingly strange ‘dreams’. Henry, beginning to feel the exhaustion from his near all nighter, decided to let the dream thing go. Perhaps Az’kel just didn’t work the same way as Humans did, but at the very least he learnt another word of her language to impress her with later.

  
  


As Azrielle looped her arms around his neck, her face almost uncomfortably close to his as she inquired about any and all dreams he could remember, utterly fascinated by the strange ‘fake memories’ the man seemed to have in his sleep. After chatting merrily for a while, stopping to shoo Handsome away who had begun nibbling on her braid, she noticed their chisel on the floor next to the small pile of sawdust to his side. 

  
  


“ _Henry has been wood hunting?”_ She asked, prodding the pointed tool with her tail. Henry, having been thoroughly distracted by the beautiful bubbly woman sat upon his lap, almost leapt out of his seat with the realisation he had not shared his handiwork with her yet. He ushered Azrielle off of him, who looked a little startled with her wide emerald eyes, and gestured to the crossbow hanging from his belt with great pride. The Az’kel stared blankly at the crossbow, before raising a bewildered eyebrow at her lover. Henry beamed with pride for a moment before realising his craftsmanship wasn’t particularly visible, unhooking the crossbow from his belt and holding it out to her with a look of accomplishment on his face. 

  
  


The stock of the crossbow, particularly the very end which one would press into their shoulder to steady the bolt thrower, had been badly splintered during Henry’s scuffle with the wolf pack. Looking at it now, however, though still rough to the touch and a far cry from the smooth finish the rest of the bow’s limbs had, it was in much better shape and much more comfortable to use than before. Not only that, but Henry had carved a deliberate hook shape into the stock, acting as a form of clip he could hang the device off of his belt with. Comparatively, the rough semi-repaired butt of the bolt thrower was as smooth as silk when compared to the choppy uneven hold the woodcutter had carved into it. Sensing that the playful smirk appearing upon her lips was likely due to the perceived shoddy craftsmanship, Henry was quick to explain that achieving such a feat given only a chisel and a lumber axe was actually no easy task.

  
  


Azrielle seemed pleased with the result nonetheless, hanging the weapon from one of the frilly decorative adornments littering her maid outfit. She couldn’t help but smile at the small yet thoughtful gesture, knowing that having a weapon on one of them at all times was a necessity for this journey, even if the thought made her a little sad if she lingered on it too long. As their talks continued, the inquisitive Az’kel was eventually able to tease just how long her partner had been awake for out of him, showering him in hugs and delicate kisses as she made him promise to nap when they got moving, if he could. She wanted nothing more than to apply a fresh coating of Alloétta to help numb his wounds and ensure a peaceful rest for her hurting oovatyal, but as there was none left, she decided the best she could do for now was cook him up a decent breakfast and shower him in affection. Despite her protests of getting him to sit still and let her cook, Henry insisted on helping. He had been raised to help those he cared about with tasks, no matter how menial, for as long as he was able. After convincing his sun-kissed companion that he was more than capable even after being so recently savaged, she reluctantly allowed him to cook up the last of their bacon. Though she pouted and huffed, complaining of his stubbornness, her tail rattled nonetheless at the thoughtful gesture. 

  
  


After a hearty breakfast with Henry promising to find her something new to eat so she wasn’t stuck eating just ham for the next few days as they continued between the peaks of promise, Henry lended her his coat and handed her his axe. Ever excited to try new things, Azrielle was more than eager to try felling a tree by herself, even if she was a little suspicious that her normally stubborn hubby was unwilling to try to do so himself. The lumberjack, bashful of his actions earlier in the morning, deliberately led her to the opposite side of the settlement and found a fresh tree to start on. 

  
  


After just a few instructions and words of guidance on Henry’s part, Azrielle had made three good swings at the trunk, unfortunately making little headway. She was diminutive when compared to Henry, and he had many hundreds of hours more experience than she did, so this came as no surprise. What did surprise him however, was when she insisted on trying to use her tail. He had expected her to try and smash the conifer tree to bits using her bludgeon, unsure as to whether the woman’s impressive appendage was up to such a brutal feat, but instead she looped the very end of her tail around the handle and swept the axe in a wide arc through the air. The head of the axe struck with devastating effect, shaking the entire tree and causing a hail of pine cones around them which startled the poor woman who then rattled her tail out in excitement of causing such a thing to occur. The next swing however was less bountiful, the axe flying from her tail’s grip and bouncing off of the ground forty or so feet from the pair before sliding to a stop in a stunted thistle bush. 

  
  


Henry decided perhaps her tail was not the wisest option to continue with, and Azrielle had to agree. While Azrielle worked, by hand now much to her embarrassment, they discussed the structures behind them. It was clear it’d been a very long time since anyone had lived here, with Henry even casting his doubts that they had been built by Az’kel at all given the local climate, but Azrielle was absolutely adamant they were nearly identical to numerous structures dotted about the sands of her homeland. Even the inconsistent shapes and cobbled together aesthetic of odd looking lumps of metal were the same as they were down south, and though Henry considered it an incredibly ugly and impractical design choice, he couldn’t exactly argue the design was ineffective. After all, all of the miner’s buildings had long since rotted and collapsed, whereas the strange lumpy domes were still standing strong.

  
  


Despite her extremely limited experience of ‘wood-hunting’ as she insisted on calling it, Azrielle managed to fell her first tree with little trouble under the guidance of her veteran tree-slaying partner. Henry got to work sawing the log into pieces while Azrielle started hacking at a tree nearby. As Henry pocketed a handful of the pines, planning to surprise Azrielle with an admittedly bland but comforting tea later on, he couldn’t help but smile at the bubbly Az’kel nearby. With every thwack of her axe, she’d crouch down and inspect the ever growing gash in the tree, touching the soft sappy inner wood with her finger and bouncing slightly as she stood up straight and readied her axe once more. He shook his head as he continued sawing. He had thought himself a relatively cheerful man before meeting this curious horned woman, but the more he spent time with her, the more he wished he could find joy in life as easily as she did.

  
  


After felling two pine trees and one birch, Azrielle helped load up the carriage with the logs insisting that Henry tended to the horses and not over exert himself. Everytime she passed him by with two logs clumsily held in her arms and a bulging backpack threatening to burst under the tremendous weight of it’s cargo hanging effortlessly from her tail, she would give him a brief kiss on the cheek before disappearing once more. He noticed her out of the corner of his eye lingering in the doorway as he moved to feed Ohtyl, her tail rattling out in delight as she watched him feed him a generous handful and pet him. After all, while Henry had been whittling and hacking away at the crossbow last night, he had had a lengthy discussion with the horse as to the do’s and don’ts of running down your owner and was optimistic such an event would not happen again. 

  
  


Cuddled up together in the rider’s seat, a hot flask of fragrant tea sweetened by a few pinches of sugar nestled closely between them both; their gentle chauffeurs lead them out of the metallic hamlet and back onto the path along the river. Though she did not say it, Henry could tell she was a little upset about leaving the familiarity of the Az’kel structures and he made sure to hold her a little tighter than usual as the village disappeared among the foliage behind them. As they progressed along the riverbank, the trail now only discernible from the surrounding woodland by the suspiciously cart-sized gap between the trees, the increasingly uneven ground and subsequent lurching of their carriage soon proved more than a little unpleasant for the sore woodsman. At Azrielle’s request, she retrieved the metallic flask of whiskey from their cabin, with Henry taking a few grateful swigs of the numbing beverage. It was running low by now with the lumberjack having been using it as a sleep aid the first few nights after sustaining his injuries. Henry however, suspected that had he not overestimated his abilities earlier that morning the bumpy cart ride wouldn’t have hurt him nearly as much as it was, so felt justified in finishing the rest of the fiery liquid off in the hopes that tomorrow his wounds would be back to mending after today’s percussive upset.

  
  


He had offered Azrielle a taste some days prior, but the Az’kel took one whiff of the potent alcohol and shook her head aggressively. The way her eyes widened with concern as she watched him drink the stuff for the first time was incredibly amusing; it was as if she was watching someone willingly drink poison. Henry grinned to himself as he recalled the charming exchange and no sooner had he placed the empty flask down at their feet than had his eyelids grown heavy. Though his limbs still ached with every bump, the alcohol was the nudge he needed to succumb to the exhaustion he had been fighting off thus far. As he slowly rested his head against Azrielle’s shoulder, she gently took the reins from his hand and planted a gentle kiss upon his forehead, curling her tail around behind him to hold him as still as she could manage.

  
  


Waiting an hour or so for Henry to slip into a deep and mostly peaceful sleep, having gently guided his head from her shoulder down onto her lap where she now gently stroked his hair with her fingertips, Azrielle began talking softly to the horses. As much as she was beginning to grow used to this strange chapter of her life, never spending much time in one place and never certain of what was just around the corner, the quiet atmosphere of the isolated wilds here still felt threatening to her. She had spent all of her life up until being captured in Vastreshi forest surrounded by people she’d always known, having unknowingly grown accustomed to the soothing background noise of constant chatter that came with living in a bustling town. As such, if she didn’t spend her time chatting away to the admittedly poor conversational partners that were her horses, she could quickly find her mind slipping to unpleasant and less than hopeful thoughts. The intermittent chirping and song of the wild birds here helped alleviate that quiet creeping dread, but the further they had travelled the less she had noticed their melodic songs or drum-like tree-eating. In fact, the sun now high in the sky marking the beginning of the afternoon, she hadn’t heard a single bird of any kind since setting off this morning. 

  
  


Just as she was mid way through a thoughtful discussion with Ohtyl about how much she wishes she could save some ice from the river here to show her friends back home, she noticed something odd about her surroundings. The frigid river to their right had been growing steadily wider, the path they were on weaving steadily more eastern as it hugged close to it’s bank. Not only that but the thick long standing pines and birch trees obscuring much of the valley had begun to steadily be less dense in their numbers, the trunks of the trees here growing noticeably thinner and more brittle looking. They almost seemed to be heading directly east as opposed to south for a while, the body of water to their side now appearing to be much more like a lake than a river as they steadily passed by another towering mountain.

  
  


As the path finally curved southwards once more what Azrielle had initially supposed to be a gap in the consecutive chain of snowy topped peaks, set a little further west so as to be partially obscured by the previous mountain in the chain, was the mountain without a peak. Hardly able to contain her excitement at the sight, she gently tapped Henry’s shoulder as her tail rattled gleefully. 

  
  


“ _Henry, look! It’s the exploded mountain, Henry’s book was right~”_ She cooed, prompting the man to rub the sleep from his eyes as he sat up, stretching his arms and hooking one behind Azrielle’s shoulders as he turned to face where his lover was now pointing with her tail. All grogginess left his mind in an instant as he took in the sight before him. Looming over what looked to be a large lake dotted with slow-moving chunks of ice, was a monumental monolith of stone with it’s innards fully exposed. Where one might expect a pointed snow covered top, was instead two brittle looking spikes either side of an enormous valley-like chasm. He had expected it to be hollow, a huge cave where the interior of the mountain should be, as a result of the legends he’d read describing it as having exploded. Instead, it looked as if some colossal beast had taken an enormous bite out of the top of the mountain, leaving behind a slanted and almost smooth looking indent where the mountaintop should be. The rocky slope left in place of a summit was cracked in places and snow dusted, with a few hardy trees visible having stubbornly rooted themselves along the sheer incline.

  
  


The two of them took in the sight in silence for a moment, though not in the ‘silence’ they had become accustomed to here in the wilds: a constant whistling whisper of wind and swaying trees; this was dead silence, save for the horse’s hooves steadily plodding along in the snow and the intermittent cracking of some distant chunk of floating ice. Finally able to take his eyes off the ominous geological phenomenon, Henry realised there were no trees to speak of here. In fact, the only plant matter not high up on the shattered mountain itself were small runty looking briars, and even then the leaves of these plants were visibly twisted and almost unnatural in their appearance; only growing less than a foot in height. Not only that, but dotting the mountain slope opposite the concave mountain were enormous building sized boulders, the likes of which neither of them had seen thus far on their journey. Henry had expected to see some mines, quarries, or even some more buildings here to denote any form of mining having taken place. But as they rounded the sizable lake at the base of this gutless mound, neither him nor Azrielle had been able to spot any such structures. The landscape here was barren save for sickly looking shrubs, numerous sizable pockmarks, and the huge jagged hunks of rock Henry supposed to be the remains of the mountain’s peak pre-explosion. 

  
  


Though the pair would normally stop to have a meal at this time of day, they both agreed that the area they were in would make for a poor stopping site, both citing the ominous feeling they felt in the deformed behemoth’s presence. Instead, Henry urged the horses onwards, moving as fast as they could skirting the silent lake and surrounding bleak landscape. Azrielle clambered over Henry, leaning over the edge of the cart to take a look at the icy waters mere feet from where they were sitting. Her eyes widened, for though the water was clear, the bottom of the lake was not visible as even the light of the midday sun dare not venture down to it’s depths. A little further out, barely visible in the dimly lit expanse, there appeared to be something large and unmoving. She sat back, wrapping her arms around Henry for comfort as she pointed towards it with her tail. Henry peered out at the sizable scarcely lit object, unable to make out any form of meaningful detail at such a distance and depth. Though he reassured his anxious companion that it was likely just another lump of great rocky debris, something about the almost orange tinge of it’s submerged form made him not so sure.

  
  


Not wanting to linger, the pair were mostly quite apart from a few well meaning jokes from the lumberjack about settling down here or building a vacation home atop one of the great craggy boulders, met with nervous but appreciative laughter from his clearly uncomfortable lover. Even the horses seemed uncomfortable in the shadow of the damaged giant, picking up their pace as thankfully they soon found themselves having reached the otherside of the lake. The water’s width lessened the further from the barren stretch of land they got, returning once more to the narrow river they had been following up until now. With the water’s return to normality, the surrounding foliage began to steadily return to the thick wintery forests they’d traversed so far. Briars and stout fledgling trees gave way to spindly thin pines scarcely able to support their own weight, before eventually returning to the thick ancient looking trees they had grown accustomed to. The further they got from that odd domed peak, the more the world around them seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and soon enough birdsong filled the air once more much to the Az’kel’s delight. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle thought maybe it would be warm and desert coloured, hot like red peaks back home…”_ The horned woman admitted, beginning to grow tired of the cold inhospitable giants looming over them and longing for the distant comfort of the three peaks visible from her hometown.

  
  


“ _Yeah, that would have been nice wouldn’t it. I was hoping maybe we’d find some more rusted steel, maybe a smaller bit to take as a keepsake, but I didn’t see any at all. I guess the miners got all of it?”_ Henry admitted, deciding not to share the growing anxiety in the back of his mind that came with dwelling too long on what terrifying destructive power was necessary to damage something that large in such a way. Regardless of his attempts to mask his thinly veiled dread, Azrielle was beginning to be able to read her oovatyal like a book, planting a series of comforting kisses upon his face as she positioned herself to be sat with her legs over his lap.

  
  


“ _This Az’kel is hungry, can we stop and have something to eat, my love?~”_ Azrielle cooed, half wanting an excuse to get her boyfriend comfortable for a bit and half genuinely famished. Henry nodded, getting the horses to stop in what was left of the snowy trail before hopping down with Azrielle to sort something to eat. Despite his protests, Azrielle insisted on cooking, heating up a richly spiced mixture of onions and potatoes alongside some admittedly thin cuts of ham. With the bacon now having ran out completely, Azrielle was conscious that even their fairly sizable haunch of meat would soon run out if she ate too much. She was about to turn and ask when they would be able to buy more food soon, when she spotted him fiddling with their medical kit. For a second she was worried he was trying to tend to his wounds without her aid, but instead he seemed to be methodically bending and reshaping one of the suture needles with the handle of his axe into something more resembling a crude hook. 

  
  


With the food plated up, Azrielle sat herself down on his lap, her tail rattling out as she kissed Henry a chunk of fried potato she had held between her teeth; a more sanitary compromise he had suggested instead of the exchange of chewed food her culture deemed affectionate. The ever attentive Az’kel quickly asked about the purpose of the hook he’d created. 

  
  


“ _It’s a fishing hook, or as close as I can make given the tools available to us”_ Henry admitted, kicking himself for not taking the time to retrieve his fishing gear from the sleepy ice lake near his hometown before they had set off. Azrielle’s eyes were wide with excitement, bouncing herself up and down on his lap as her tail shook and shimmered louder than he’d heard it in a long time. 

  
  


“ _This is for fish? Henry will teach Azrielle how to hunt fish?!”_ She half asked half shouted, visibly salivating slightly at the thought, Henry having almost forgotten just how much she’d enjoyed the fish he’d brought her their very first night together. 

  
  


“ _It’s called fishing, silly. You catch fish, not hunt them~”_ He explained, his tone as patient and gentle as ever so as to not condescend the exotic woman, knowing that Human language was still relatively new to her. Azrielle leaned forward, almost knocking her plate aside as she began an onslaught of affection all the way from her partner’s neck up to his forehead in the form of passionate kisses, ending it by taking his face in her hands and planting a firm and lingering kiss upon his lips. Even though by now he’d experienced this very thing hundreds of times before, the feeling of her soft plump lips and petite yet curvy body atop his gave him butterflies in his stomach. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle will catch all the fish!”_ She announced triumphantly, taking the roughly shaped hook in her hand and swishing it about in the air beside them as if fending off some invisible school of fish threatening to interrupt their lunch. Henry couldn’t help but laugh, feeling warmth in his chest as he heard the melodic giggling and subsequent warm smile of the enchanting beauty before him. Azrielle watched his expression change from joy to melancholy in an instant, finding herself pulled into a tight hug before she could even blink. 

  
  


“ _You’re doing Ok, yeah? We’re getting there and I wish we could make faster progress, but I made you a promise and I will get you home no matter what. I-if there’s anything I can do to make this journey easier or more comfortable you just have to-”_ Henry stopped, finding Azrielle’s fingers moving steadily through his hair, a gentle shushing sound escaping her lips as she held him close. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle is Ok. Is her oovatyal Ok?~”_ She asked quietly, a soft almost motherly tone to her voice that carried with it such raw comfort that the woodcutter found his eyes tearing up a little involuntarily. Fearing if he tried to talk he would find himself choked up with emotion, he instead opted to simply nod his head. Azrielle seemed to understand, making more gentle soothing noises as she played with his hair and drew small circles on his back with her tail. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle could not ask for a braver or sweeter man to be her oovatyal, or better company for this journey~”_ She encouraged, her tail coiling steadily around her boyfriend who had begun to silently cry in her embrace. 

  
  


“ _I thought you… I couldn’t… I thought I’d lose you…”_ Henry finally relented after a few quiet moments sharing each other's warmth and finding immeasurable relief in her affectionate embrace. This prompted tears to form in the Az’kel’s verdant eyes, tears quickly streaming down her delicate light brown cheeks. She simply held him for a moment, thinking hard on the right words. 

  
  


“ _You didn’t leave Azrielle, we are still here together. Henry is strong, stronger than this Azrielle or even many Az’kel back home. Henry kept Azrielle and their silly horse friends safe, Ok?”_ She reassured, her voice wavering and bordering on giving out in places, but managing to keep her composure. Henry nodded once more, fiddling sheepishly with the fabric of her dress, before leaning backwards and wiping the tears from his eyes. Azrielle sniffled slightly, smiling as warmly as ever at him as she did the same, giggling as Henry adjusted her hat down to cover more of her forehead. 

  
  


“ _I’m not going anywhere.”_ Henry managed, clearing his throat and trying to regain some perceived masculinity, none the wiser that his demonstration of tenderness and vulnerability had only strengthened the blossoming love Azrielle felt for her scruffy looking saviour. After enjoying each other's company for a while longer, alleviating the tender sadness of their previous conversation with a suitably silly discussion of Henry trying and failing to guess Az’kel words for things and Azrielle teasing him about his pronunciation, the pair refilled their flask with hot tea and set off south once more. As they journeyed, they kept an eye out for a suitable stick to use for an improvised fishing rod, but once Azrielle had had Henry explain the basic mechanics of fishing she assured him that she could use her tail as an effective substitute. 

  
  


Throughout their afternoon ride, Azrielle took great joy in gazing at the picturesque tranquil river to their side and having Henry tell her what bird each intermittent song and call belonged to. However after only an hour or so travelling past the peakless mountain, they were surprised to find the trail they’d followed thus far had stopped entirely. Apparently whichever miners had picked these lands clean of ejected steel, had not endeavoured to travel much further than the broken mountain bountiful in metal. From here on out their speed suffered considerably, having to carefully navigate their way through the thick boreal forests and ensure they did not stray too far from the river and lose their way. After Azrielle had to shift over a dozen fallen trees, beginning to look increasingly exhausted despite her persistent jovial demeanour, Henry insisted they head back to the river’s edge and try to catch some fish for dinner. 

  
  


Despite having had the process explained to her already, Azrielle still sat hugging her knees and her eyes wide in fascination as she watched Henry tie some of the surgical thread from their medical supplies to the make-shift hook, letting the clearly very excited woman have the honours of attaching a small piece of ham to the hook and toss it into the slow-moving flow before them. The woodcutter carefully tied the end of the thread around Azrielle’s tail just below her arrow-shaped tip, unable but to smile as he watched her excitedly staring down into the crisp glacial waters eager to spot the first signs of a fish. Henry took the time to feed and tend to the horses as he let Azrielle sit all bundled up at the river’s edge, hearing her tail rattle out as she overheard him practicing a few Az’kel words with Ohtyl. 

  
  


With some adjustments of the cart’s position, getting perhaps a little too close to the riverbank, Azrielle was able to sit comfortably on the steps of the carriage with the warmth of the fire at her back whilst holding her long tail out over the river. After having collected up enough pine needles to brew a fresh flask of tea, Henry sat beside her on the steps with his arm around his shoulder and Azrielle’s fur pelt draped beneath it. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle is patient, skillful fish catcher, yes”_ The woman commented, undoubtedly seeking reassurance from the more experienced fisherman that she was not doing anything incorrectly. 

  
  


“ _Patience is the name of the game I’m afraid, but it’s a lot better with you here than it ever was fishing by myself”_ Henry admitted, prompting a loving kiss from the beautiful woman as she nuzzled herself against his neck. They sat in silence, enjoying each other's embrace as they watched a particularly large chunk of ice drift by, before Henry piped up with a question. 

  
  


“ _How come you always use ‘Azrielle’ and not ‘I’ like I do?_ ” He inquired somewhat hesitantly, uncertain as to bring it up as the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass her, after all her grasp of his language was exceptional given how recently she had first begun to learn it. Azrielle giggled a little, speaking in a surprisingly good attempt at Henry’s northern accent. 

  
  


“ _Would Henry prefer that I use I to refer to I?”_ She teased, her tail rattling involuntarily as she giggled once more, her pleasant melodious tones echoing about the valley around them. Henry fussed her hair, grinning from ear to ear at her sense of humour. 

  
  


“ _I just noticed you preferred to use your name is all”_ He explained, feeling a little sheepish about having made the observation now that she was clearly very capable of using it and at least somewhat understood it’s function in a sentence.

  
  


“ _We do not have this word in Az’kel, it seems very strange to Azr-_ **_I_ ** _. Why would anyone use ‘I’ when they have their name? How are you to know who is talking if everyone says ‘I’? Is very confusing, Azrielle thinks.”_ She explained, somewhat surprising the woodsman with the revelation that apparently a first person pronoun was not common between their languages. He scratched his stubbly chin for a moment, pondering on a situation where ‘I’ would surely be necessary, but struggled to think of anything. He snapped his fingers suddenly, startling Azrielle slightly. 

  
  


“ _What about if you don’t want someone to know your name? What do you say then?”_ Henry asked, causing Azrielle to purse her lips for a moment as she kicked her legs idly, bobbing her tail up and down slowly just as Henry had instructed. 

  
  


“ _Why would you not want someone to know your name? Why have a name if not for people to know it?”_ Azrielle inquired, completely stumping her lover who could only shrug, unsure as to whether she was being a little naive or that Az’kel culture was just a lot more honest than his was. “ _Humans are very silly, yes~”_ Azrielle added, poking Henry playfully in the ribs as she giggled. She decided that she didn't really need to understand his species completely anyway, as she was happy with Henry and that was all that mattered to her. Before a new topic of conversation could be introduced however, Azrielle gasped with delight as she felt a tug on her tail. 

  
  


Flying to her feet and bouncing up and down uncontrollably with excitement, it took Henry grasping her gently by the shoulders to calm her enough to focus, reminding her that she needed to wind the fish in carefully. She nodded, making small circular motions with the tip of her tail and spooling the medical thread around the divet in her tail, winding the fish closer and closer to the surface. As soon as the red scaled form of her quarry was visible beneath the water’s surface however, Azrielle grew impatient. With an almighty flick of her tail, Henry watched in awe as the large salmon-like fish was launched out of the water several feet into the air, landing with an alarmingly loud thud on the roof of their carriage. Azrielle blushed fiercely, apologising for her rashness as Henry reassured her it was fine, climbing up on to the rider’s seat to retrieve the fish. 

  
  


Just as he thought, it appeared to be a large salmon, almost as long as his forearm and twice as thick. He had planned on clubbing it with the handle of his axe to deal with it quickly, but was surprised to find Azrielle’s somewhat overkill fishing technique had done the job for him. As he brought the fish down for her to see, the bubbly Az’kel was unable to hide her elation. He let her hold it, struggling with the weight of it as she stared in awe and extremely apparent hunger at the fish before her. She gushed and gushed about how big and slippery it was, asking if it would taste the same as the fish he gave her before, and how special it was in her culture to eat fish let alone catch them; despite Henry being very aware of all this, he shared her enthusiasm and did not want to dampen her spirits. Henry offered to cook it for her while she kept fishing, and while she was a little apprehensive to let him cook by himself in favour of letting his arm rest, she was eventually won over by the thrill that came with the possibility of catching more fish. 

  
  


As it turned out, either the Az’kel was a natural at mimicking the movement of bait with her tail, or this particular stretch of water was abundant with fish as she had caught two more similarly sized salmon by the time Henry had had cooked up the first. Henry was impressed, if a little jealous of his own comparatively slow fishing sessions, but nonetheless shared the joy his girlfriend displayed as she presented the latest catch with pride to her oovatyal. It took little convincing to get her to stop long enough to enjoy some dinner, salivating heavily the moment the thick slab of salted meat caught her gaze. Henry had even added some ground peppercorn and diced bayleaves to the fillets for their small selection of spices, and though Azrielle did not comment directly on the taste of their meal, the passionate almost immodest sounds escaping her mouth as she chowed down gave him all the reassurance he needed. 

  
  


With what sunlight they had left, after proclaiming Henry to be the best fish cooking person she’d ever known, Azrielle continued fishing with her oovatyal as company. As the sun began to set over the western mountain range, Azrielle caught her last of the day’s catch, bringing her total salmon count up to thirteen fish. Henry congratulated her, telling her she was close to beating his all time record of fifteen fish, too embarrassed to admit the most he’d ever caught in one day was three. Despite Azrielle’s protests of staying out for just a little longer to beat his record, Henry managed to lure her into the warmth of their carriage with the notion that they could spend some alone time together away from the horses before it got dark and they needed to start their night watch. Azrielle quickly ascertained his meaning, unspooling the thread from her tail and helping to store the uncooked fish atop the carriage inside what had previously been a sack containing oats, knowing the weather was more than cold enough to preserve the fish properly. 

  
  


The moment Henry entered the carriage, Azrielle following swiftly behind him shutting the door with her tail and practically tearing her hat and gloves off, he found himself pinned to his seat with Azrielle quickly straddling him. As desperate as she was to feel his tongue against hers, she was conscious of his injuries and made sure to hold him still with her tail as she licked and kissed at his neck and undid his coat and shirt. Taking a moment to lean back and admire his admittedly muscular form, adorned with dark coloured bruises and partially healed lacerations, Azrielle could feel her panties growing damp to the touch. Henry took the initiative, placing his hands on either side of her face despite his arm complaining at the sudden movement, pulling her in for an extremely passionate messy kiss. 

  
  


A series of soft satisfied moans escaped her mouth as she felt Henry’s tongue dancing against hers, quickly finding herself grinding against his lap, eager to feel him inside of her. Catching herself quickly losing control, she had to stop herself, pursing her lips and looking rather guiltily at the heavily breathing man in front of her. 

  
  


“ _Is something wrong?”_ Henry asked with concern, conscious of his heart beating hard in his chest and his manhood straining against his trousers. Azrielle shook her head, leaning forward and placing her lips against his ear as her hand ventured down to his rock hard member. With surprising grace, she unfastened his trousers and released his manhood which she stroked slowly and sensually. 

  
  


“ _Azrielle thinks we should take things slow tonight, yes? Make her oovatyal feel good without hurting him~”_ She cooed, succeeding in making her concern for his well being sound intoxicatingly erotic with her sensible yet sultry tone. Her voice was so soft and sweet that a chill ran up the man’s spine, only able to manage a pathetic sounding “ _ok”_ which caused Azrielle to smirk at the effect she had on him. 

  
  


She clambered off of his lap, facing away from him as she slowly pulled down her dress and with a little shake of her hips it fell to the floor. She bent down at the waist to pick it up, presenting her firm ass hugged tightly by her decorative black lace panties, Henry able to see a few beads of her lust glistening in the firelight along her inner thigh. She folded her dress up, deliberately teasing her lover by moving her hips from side to side alluringly, before turning round to face him once more. Her perky breasts were full and firm, bouncing slightly with each small step as she sat herself down on the seat beside him. Henry would have felt a little silly staring at her with his mouth agape, completely in awe of her beauty, were he not completely mesmerised by her deeply erotic movements. 

  
  


She moved her body against his, her breasts pressed firmly against his side as her fingertips curled slowly and deliberately around his shaft. She fluttered her long smokey eyelashes at him as her fingertips massaged the head of his manhood, her lips held firm in a smug smirk as they hovered mere inches from his ear. With her free hand she gently held his face, proceeding to gently kiss and lick at his neck and cheek, getting both thoroughly wet with her saliva as she began lamenting him softly. As her hand moved slowly up and down the length of his shaft, she went into great detail about how fiercely he turned her on, and how each and every bruise and cut upon his body made her womb ache more and more to be filled with his seed. She talked in great length how perfectly his cock felt inside of her, how delicious it tasted and how addicted she was to his lustful cream. His cock by now was glistening with precum, twitching every time her fingers glided against his sensitive glans. 

  
  


Planting one last passionate kiss upon his cheek, she smirked at him as her eyes wandered down to his throbbing cock, unable to help herself any longer and eager for a taste. She got down on all fours, gently licking and nibbling at the base of her cock with her ass up in the air moving from side to side slightly as she did so. She continued to compliment his taste, his heat, his thickness as she slowly moved her mouth further and further up his shaft; finally letting out a desperate muffled moan of pleasure as she finally took his cock into her mouth. Henry placed one hand on her head, at first simply moving his fingertips through her silken silver hair, but soon gripping one of her horns as Azrielle encouraged him to guide her movements up and down.

  
  


Much to the woman’s surprise and subsequent delight, she felt Henry’s hand caressing her ass, squeezing her firm pillow-like cheeks roughly. The slight pain of being handled so roughly only heightened her lust, moaning and whimpering onto his cock as his fingers thoroughly appreciated her curvy ass. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy as she felt Henry slip her delicate panties to the side, slowly rubbing her clit in small circles that made her thighs tremble and her mouth to salivate with the raw pleasure of it. The slightly salty taste of her lover’s precum was as delicious as it was addictive, a cocktail of saliva and lust dripping from her mouth down her chin as she pushed his thick member deeper into her throat as she pressed her lips against his base. Her lover’s fingers quickly found their way into her dripping wet pussy, where Azrielle found herself quickly climaxing from their eager movement between her walls. A little surprised by just how sensitive she was, Henry withdrew his fingers from her trembling walls and sucked his plentiful sweet tasting nectar from them. 

  
  


Not wishing to deprive his oovatyal of stimulation, no matter how desperately he craved her honey-like flavour, he soon began steadily and methodically stimulating his depths with two of his fingers. Having climaxed already her walls were tight and spasmed slightly with eerie abrupt movement, prompting all manner of desperate whimpers and squeaks from the overstimulated woman, having long since lost her composure and now drooling hungrily against the sizable shaft plunging in and out of her eagerly awaiting throat. Henry grinned as he felt her walls clamp down on his digits, squeezing them from base to tip as they did with his cock as she climaxed messily once more, feeling her honey dripping messily down his hand. To his surprise, just as he began to get close to climaxing himself, the heavily breathing Az’kel let his cock slide messily out of her mouth and sat herself up to face him. 

  
  


“ _Where do you want to put your seed, my love~”_ She cooed, batting her eyelashes alluringly as she licked her lips clean of his precum, subtly rubbing her clit with the tip of her tail as she awaited his response. As much as the thought of pumping her womb full of his thick cream appealed to him, he was craving something sweet. 

  
  


“ _I want you to ride my face and swallow every last drop of my mess”_ Henry managed, pleased to find his voice suitably gruff and masculine. Now it was time for Azrielle to shiver with the pleasant tone of his voice, grinning eagerly as she slowly pushed him down to be lying on his back, wasting no time in mounting his face and returning his cock to the warm embrace of her throat the moment she was settled. Henry took a moment to take in the sight of her rich caramel skin, her plump ass adorned in red marks from his rough groping and her labia quite literally dripping with lust as he spread her ass cheeks revealing her delicious pink entrance. Azrielle gasped and rocked her hips as she felt his tongue enter her, overwhelmed by the excitement of knowing her lover was tasting her insides and the raw pleasure of his warmth lapping against her walls. 

  
  


Henry soon found himself drooling with the sweet flavour of his lover’s juices, seemingly unable to sate his craving for her feminine honey-like taste, alternating from suckling on her sensitive love bud and plunging his tongue as deep as he could manage in her tight welcoming hole. The pair spent what felt like hours, with Henry’s arms locked around her slender waist, greedily swallowing mouthful after mouthful of her delicious lust. Where Henry was ravenous, Azrielle was slow and methodical; bobbing her head up and down slowly and massaging the tip with her tongue, even as another consecutive orgasm made her legs thighs spasm and her eyes to roll further back in her head. She wanted to prolong his pleasure, and her own, for as long as possible. Eventually, Henry’s breathing became more erratic and he moved his hands from her waist to the back of her head. He stifled a moan as her tongue skillfully caressed his glans, switching his grip from her hair to her horns, one held firmly in each hand as he pressed her head down firmly against his crotch. 

  
  


Azrielle of course was more than happy to oblige, moaning against his pulsing hot shaft as it deposited rope after rope of deliciously thick lust directly into her awaiting throat. The Az’kel greedily swallowed the substantially sizable load, clearly able to feel his lustful warmth in her stomach as his cock twitched and finished it’s rather explosive climax. Slowly, Henry released his grip on her horns, with Azrielle sliding his cock out from between her lips and breathing heavily as she basked in the feeling of being filled with her lover’s seed. 

  
  


She adjusted herself, after a few moments of coming down from her high, so that she was curled up atop his chest with her face near his. He had a dumb satisfied grin upon his lips, even as Azrielle used her thumb to wipe his face clean of her lust, making no attempt to hide the fact she licked it clean as she indulged herself momentarily in her own moreish flavour. After Henry had come down from his own potent orgasm, he wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her as tight as he could as he rained down an onslaught of kisses against her cheek and neck causing a delightful girlish giggle from the tired woman and she squirmed and squeaked in his arms. Clambering off of him after a few minutes spent complimenting each other and enjoying the afterglow of their passionate love-making session, Azrielle donned her dress and took a few moments checking over his bandages and wounds to ensure no infections had set in. Satisfied with her handiwork, she instructed Henry to get comfortable and sat on the floor next to him stroking his face with her hand as she whispered sweet nothings to her sweetheart as he gently succumbed to slumber. 

  
  


With a smile on her face at being so repeatedly satisfied, she put on her outdoor gear and Henry’s thick padded coat, before slinging the quiver over her shoulder with her crossbow in hand and her hot water bottle wrapped tightly against her stomach. She watched over the horses for the first half of the night, marveling at the way the intermittent miniature icebergs sparkled in the moonlight and having to exert great self control and stop herself from trying to fish, lest her attention be taken away from her surroundings and leave an opening for something dreadful to happen to her docile sleeping chauffeurs. As it turns out, her repeated climaxes had taken more energy out of her than she supposed, with Henry awakening later in the light and finding her curled up with a thankfully still warm water bottle. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the carriage, tucking her in tightly with her blanket and planting a few loving kisses on her forehead before leaving to take his watch. 

  
  


The night passed by uneventfully for the woodcutter, yawning heartily as the first of the sun’s rays crested the mountains to the east, greeting the horses with a sleepy ‘good morning’ as they awoke and got to their feet. The first he heard of Azrielle being up was the splash of a hook entering the water, followed by her delightful melodic giggle as she waved at her lover from the steps of their carriage. Deciding he was down for more fish for breakfast, he retrieved one of the sizable frozen salmon and stepped into the carriage. Before he could get any further however, Azrielle pulled him into her embrace, kissing him deeply and passionately on the carriage steps before whispering a sweet “good morning” to her handsome cook.

  
  


As Henry filleted the fish, smiling as he listened to Azrielle sing softly to herself as her tail bobbed up and down, a sudden gasp and subsequent shocked hiss from the exotic woman almost made him drop his knife. He whipped around in alarm, his eyes widening and his grip tightening around the blade in his hand. Azrielle stood upright paralyzed with shock, staring in fear at a figure standing alone on the opposite bank of the river. Henry stepped forward, about to rush to the rider’s seat to retrieve their crossbow, but as he stepped forward he realised the figure was an elderly man looking significantly scruffier than even the dishevelled woodcutter himself. His expression was that of complete disbelief, his arm raised and shaking slightly as he pointed at Azrielle and shouted loudly:  
  
  
“ **_Daemellam!_ ** _”_

  
  


  
  
  
  
  


  
  



	7. An Az'kel Anomaly

Azrielle’s stance shifted from alarm and aggression, to something more akin to confusion. Her expression flickered between bewilderment and disgust and seemed to Henry almost offended by whatever it was the man had said. The nature of his statement, which at first hearing seemed to be distinctly Az’kel in nature, mattered little for the moment however; Henry placed a protective arm in front of Azrielle, waving her to step back inside of the carriage. She complied, taking a step backwards and continuing to stare in disbelief at the haggard looking man across the river. His beard was far longer than Henry’s, a tangle of grey and patchy orange tufts, obscuring almost all of his lower face. Despite this bushy addition to the mysterious male’s otherwise wrinkled face, it was clear that he was just as shocked as she was. The Az’kel watched as his trembling hand lowered, no longer pointing at her. She was vaguely aware of her lover rushing off to the left out of view towards the front of the cart, unable to take her eyes off of the stranger. She watched in surprise as his shocked expression turned to delight, a wondrous excitement in his eyes that was child-like in nature and seemed to brighten his otherwise tired looking face immediately. 

  
  


He had just clapped his hands together, opening his mouth to speak once more, only for his grin to dissipate and his voice kept silent as he spotted Henry stood in front of Azrielle once more; his crossbow loaded and pointed squarely at him. The sun-kissed woman’s tail coiled nervously around Henry’s leg, placing her hand on his shoulder as she peered out from behind him, her head cocked inquisitively at the elderly intruder. While Azrielle was perturbed, Henry was sweating bullets. He’d chatted to enough caravan hands gracing the bars of Lampveller to have heard plenty of stories of ambushes. He kept the crossbow trained on what he presumed to be a mere distraction, nervously scanning the treeline either side of the carriage for any sign of movement or other such unwanted guests. Despite his weariness, he couldn’t help but feel unnerved as the old man’s smile quickly returned to his face, leaning slightly to the side to try get a better look at the green-eyed woman peering back at him. After a tense moment, with only the sound of creaking ice and babbling water piercing the tense air, the woodcutter had decided how best to proceed.

  
  


“ _ Are you alone? Move and I’ll put a bolt in you, old man or not.” _ Henry barked, his voice stern and commanding despite the crossbow clearly trembling as he ‘steadied’ it against the crook of his injured arm. His eyes narrowed as he awaited a response, hyper aware of his surroundings, expecting a dozen or more brigands to spring forth from the foliage around them at a moment's notice. He was rather pleased with the steely tone of his demand he had managed despite being caught so thoroughly off guard, that was until he noticed the man’s expression didn’t change even slightly. In fact, other than a confused and clearly concerned glance in his direction, the old coot seemed fixated on the exotic beauty still peeking out from behind Henry’s back. He leaned and tilted his head, an excitable grin on his lips as he took in the sight of her horns, a gleeful expression that was akin to a child spotting a new puppy their father was failing to hide behind their back.

  
  


Henry repeated himself, raising the crossbow up to his cheekbone to take aim and hopefully reinforce the seriousness of his threat. This time the stranger reacted more appropriately, reluctantly prying his gaze from Azrielle and slowly raising his hands with his palms facing the lumberjack. He seemed to bite his lip to force the smile from his face, visibly shaking though whether from excitement or fear was anyone’s guess. Azrielle reached forward, gently placing her hand on her lover’s wrist and encouraging him to lower his weapon. He let out a deep sigh of relief as he obliged, satisfied that were this an orchestrated attack the other assailants would have certainly made themselves known by now. The pair stood and watched him in equal parts awe and confusion. He had still not answered them, nor had he lowered his hands. His greying eyes were wide and watery, his lips trembling as he lowered his hands excruciatingly slowly. All at once he leaped into the air, a stiff and rigid movement that only succeeded in gaining him less than an inch in height, clapping his hands in excitement as he laughed loudly and uncontrollably. His legs were stubbornly taut with age, but nonetheless carried his frail frame in what could only be described as some sort of celebratory jig as he lumbered about in a circle clapping his hands all the while. The lovers had just enough time to exchange a bewildered glance before both jumping slightly, startled by the man shouting at them once more. 

  
  


“ **_Daemellam? Materyl Daemellam?!_ ** ” He exclaimed, leaning forward at an alarming angle as if already straining to hear their response; or rather, waiting to hear Azrielle’s response. Indeed, his gaze was firmly on the horned woman once more, seemingly ignoring Henry’s existence as a few steady tears traced his somewhat sunken cheeks. The woodcutter was certain, utterly gobsmacked, but certain nonetheless; this man was speaking Az’kel. From what he could understand he was asking if she was… his mother? But what was the other word? He turned to Azrielle hoping to find mutual uncertainty on her face. He was surprised however to find her cheeks flushed and a scowl not dissimilar to that she had faced the slavers with stuck firm upon her lips. A quiet hiss escaped her lips, clearly conveying her discomfort though stifled to ensure the stranger did not hear it. 

  
  


“ _ What… what is he saying? … Azrielle?” _ He asked cautiously, finding himself a little intimidated by her stern glare even though he was thankfully not on the receiving end. She kept her eyes locked firmly on the odd man as she stared daggers at him, her posture defiant but her tail squeezed Henry’s leg a little tighter than before betraying the vulnerability she felt just below the surface.

  
  


“ _ He calls Azrielle a very bad name, worst name in Az’kel language. Azrielle does not know this word in Human yet, is very bad.” _ The exotic woman explained carefully, she herself still trying to figure out where the word for ‘mother’ fit into the oddly delivered insult. She couldn’t quite figure him out. His tone was jovial and she could tell from the tears glistening on his mucky cheeks that he was more than a little overwhelmed, and yet he so freely hurled such an utterly reprehensible name at her? She didn’t know what to think, quite possibly a bit overwhelmed herself at having met a human out here in the wilderness, let alone one who spoke her mother tongue. 

  
  


“ **_Azrielle non eyl!_ ** ” The Az’kel shouted back, stepping forward defiantly out from behind her oovatyal. Henry knew not what she said, but from her hostile tone alone he could tell it was not receptive to his previous obscenities. The old man stood in stunned silence for a few moments, allowing the pair to properly take in the attire his frail frame was clad in for the very first time. Draped about his shoulders, with his scraggly grey hair tucked somewhat neatly into it, was a thick shawl made of stark white fur. His legs were clad in leathers, assorted fur patches of greys and whites and browns grafted in odd places up and down their length. When contrasted with the fine silks and cloth of Azrielle’s dress, it felt hardly justified calling them clothes at all; even Henry’s tattered and amateurishly repaired shirt and trousers seemed well made in comparison. There was no doubt however that his outfit was well suited to the cold however, with Henry wishing he had something of the like for his cold-blooded companion.

  
  


Azrielle’s eyes were narrowed, her tail uncoiling from Henry’s leg and beginning to lift threateningly behind her much like it had done the first time she’d met their horses. Her defensive posture dropped at once however as the man began to speak once more, his voice wavering between words as he tried his hardest to stop his weeping by wiping the tears on his sleeve. Henry tried to keep up, but the rolling ‘r’s and elongated vowels seemed to blend together in a pleasant to hear but completely incomprehensible string of Az’kel words. His monologue seemed to stretch on and on, Henry lowering his crossbow completely and looking between him and Azrielle, hoping for some inkling into what it was exactly he was saying. He watched as Azrielle’s expression turned from anger, to suspicion, to a cautious smile. 

  
  


“ _ Roland says he is friend, says he is…” _ She paused for a second, her expression shifting into frustration as she puzzled over her wording. “ _ He says he is son of Az’kel, or maybe… protector? Roland uses old words, not easy to understand.” _ Azrielle explained, gently easing the crossbow out of her protective lover’s hand as she shot ‘Roland’ a reassuring albeit weak smile. Henry was flabbergasted, but did not resist as Azrielle affixed the crossbow to his belt. 

  
  


“ _ He’s the son of an Az’kel? As in, he’s an Az’kel? Wait what about him insulting you, what was that about?” _ Henry inquired, increasingly exasperated as more and more unanswered questions flooded his mind. Azrielle waved him off with her hand politely, delicately resting it atop his shoulder as the haggard looking man spoke up again. He seemed to have composed himself a little, a wide and somewhat tooth deprived grin stuck firm on his weathered face. Whatever it was he was saying, even Azrielle seemed to have a hard time following along as she leaned forward and seemed to strain to pick out individual words from his fast flurry of outlandish sounds. Once he had finished, he turned to Henry with a smile and clasped his hands together with an audible clap before tilting his head to the side as if expecting an answer from him, though to what question the woodcutter knew not.

  
  


“ _ Azrielle, why is he looking at me? He’s… he’s not an Az’kel right? There’s no horns or tail, I thought you said the male Az’kels had them too? Do… do they drop off with age or something? You’ve got to help me out here” _ Henry pleaded, smiling nervously back at the man and looking at his companion expectantly out of the corner of his eye as she giggled at his unintentional silliness. She patted his shoulder reassuringly, shaking her head as she struggled to stop laughing. 

  
  


“ _ Roland is not an Az’kel, no, silly Henry. Maybe he thinks he is? Azrielle is not sure, his uh… the way he says things is strange. Very different to how Az’kel speak at home, yes. Azrielle can understand most of it, though it is a little…”  _ She wiggled her fingers in the air, a pantomime seeming to indicate the man’s manner of speech to be a little all over the place. 

  
  


“ _ Roland has invited Henry to his home, he says it is just a little ways along the river. He says you are ‘son of Az’kel’ like him, I think maybe he is… what is the word? Not of clear thought?” _ Azrielle inquired, seemingly now completely relaxed in their current albeit unexpected situation, despite the potential danger Henry still suspected could be lurking just beyond the treeline. 

  
  


“ _ Confused? You mean confused. Yeah him and me both. Azrielle- by the hells where do I start. Alright, Ok, I got it. I’m the son of an Az’kel and so is he, but we’re not actually Az’kel, and also he’s invited us to his home because you and him are now friends? Is that- am I understanding this right?” _ The exasperated man asked, beginning to feel the mental strain of the bizarre situation steadily poisoning his body with it’s exhausting complexity; despite having only just woken up. Azrielle nodded slowly, she herself now taking a moment to scan the treeline for any other figures. She was no fool and though the sound of her mother tongue was naturally comforting after having been surrounded by nothing but steadily comprehensible Human-noises for months; she was still rightfully wary of the man, no matter how old or seemingly harmless. The sound of reins shaking and now familiar bray sounded out to their side, indicating that Handsome had been woken up by the conversation and as he always did: had then woken his brother up with a playful chomp at his ear. Perhaps previously unseen or simply having gone unnoticed, the movement of the large animals drew the elderly man’s attention and he gawked in awe at their steeds. 

  
  


In doing so Azrielle took the opportunity created by the man’s lapse in conversation to spring forward, much to her partner’s surprise, and slam the twin doors to their carriage shut so that they were hidden from the strange seemingly nomadic man’s view. Caught off guard by this turn of events, Henry found himself involuntarily gasping as Azrielle practically threw herself at him and in an instant had her head nestled against his chest and her arms around his waist. It took him a moment for the events to make sense to him, realising that he himself had also been fooled by the now apparent facade the cunning Az’kel had put on. He placed one hand gently against the back of her head, comfortingly patting her silver silken hair. 

  
  


“ _ Azrielle does not trust this man, his language is  _ **_wrong_ ** _ , uses words to mean things they do not. Azrielle thinks this man is…” _ Her voice faltered, something he had not heard since the very first time he had been alone with her when she had struggled with the fear and uncertainty of what, at the time, she did not realise was a rescue. His other arm seemed to find it’s way around her back, squeezing her gently and rubbing her reassuringly with the palm of his hand at this distinctive tone of fear in her voice. She fell silent for a second, allowing time to regain her composure.

  
  


“ _ When those bad men captured Azrielle, they tricked us- Azrielle’s friends… One of them spoke the Az’kel tongue, sounded scared and in need. It was… the way the words left their mouth was wrong. Like Az’kel children still learning how to use their tongues. This… Roland is similar but it is not in the way he says words, his sounds are very good and fine, it is the words he uses themselves. They are used wrong, as if his meaning and Azrielle’s meaning are not the same?” _ Azrielle did her best to explain, tilting her head back to search Henry’s eyes for recognition as to the point she was trying to make. Henry narrowed his eyes, glancing nervously towards the now closed door.

  
  


“ _ You think he might be a slaver? _ ” Henry asked sternly, his fingertips reaching across her back towards where the crossbow was affixed to his belt. Azrielle bit her lip, seemingly non-commital to the idea. There was no way they could have known that they had come so far east in their journey south through these frigid valleys, that was even if news of her ‘delayed delivery’ had even reached those who had sold her yet. The only way they could have known was if they had been following them, in which case why had they not just ambushed them while they slept? Or while Henry was still healing from his wounds? And if they  **were** following them, how could they have ended up  _ in front _ of them and on the completely wrong side of the river? The more she thought about it, the more she doubted herself. Henry seemed to not be following a similar critical analysis of the situation in his mind however, his eyes still narrowed as his hand began to remove the crossbow from his belt.

  
  


“ _ Ok, you’re a better shot than me so if you stay in here and fire near him, I’ll run out and attach the-” _ Henry was shushed by one of the woman’s dainty caramel coloured fingers. She looked almost guilty, perhaps regretting sowing the seed of distrust, knowing Henry was very protective of her. 

  
  


“ _ No… Azrielle think Roland is strange and should not be trusted yet, but Roland is not a slaver.” _ She almost spat the final word from her lips, as if the conjunction of such heinous syllables were a toxin upon her tongue. She bit her lip slightly, second guessing her final judgement. Henry took the time to consider her conclusion, his heart beginning to fall to a manageable rate ever so slowly after the phenomenal adrenaline spike that was thinking his partner was in danger of being taken again. Rubbing his stubbly chin, the pair cocked their heads to the side and turned towards the door as the elederly man called out once more. Henry turned to Azrielle for a translation, finding her somewhat fearful expression melting into an uncontrollable giggle. 

  
  


“ _ Roland says there is something wrong with one of our horses, Roland thinks maybe is slow-minded. Azrielle thinks he is-” _

  
  


“ _ -Talking about Handsome? Yeah I’d bet my good leg on it” _ Henry joked, letting out a relieved sigh followed by a chuckle of disbelief at the strange situation. He shook his head from side to side, before taking Azrielle’s face in his hands gently and looking into her beautiful emerald eyes.

  
  


“ _ We’re heading that way anyway, so we can at least see what this ‘home’ of his is. I’ll keep the crossbow loaded, and I’d feel more comfortable if you sat on the opposite side of me while we go; I don’t like the way he was looking at you.” _ Henry suggested, unable to stifle a slight smile as he heard her tail rattling faintly against his leg. Azrielle smiled back, her cheeks growing steadily rosy as the protective nature of her oovatyal caused her heart to leap and flutter in her chest. She nodded in agreement, stepping back and quickly bundling herself in one of their blankets, staying behind her boyfriend as he opened the doors once more. 

  
  


The wild looking man was squatting on the river bank, a goofy grin stuck firm on his face with his hand outstretched across the water towards the front of the cart. He chuckled heartily to himself as he spotted them emerge from their homestead on wheels, nodding towards their horses. Henry kept his eyes suspiciously on the fur-clad man, whilst Azrielle leaned over his shoulder to peep at what Roland was referring to. Indeed, their assumption of his statement referring to Handsome was spot on, with the pinto horse stood right on the bank opposite the man; his neck outstretched fully over the water as he stared in apparent fascination at the scruffy stranger, his tongue hanging limply from the side of his mouth. 

  
  


“ _ Could you tell him we’ll follow him to his home?” _ Henry asked, deliberately speaking loud enough for the scraggly man to hear, just in case his apparent lack of understanding of the Human tongue was some clever facade. His attention didn’t even shift from their peculiar steed as Henry spoke, only looking towards them once Azrielle began to speak; at once he stood up straight and clapped his hands merrily, turning to walk along the bank and beckoning them to follow with a wave of his hand.

  
  


Azrielle helped her limping lover up into the rider’s seat, using her tail as a footstool to aid his ascent, before quickly setting to work affixing their furry friends to their reins. Handsome resisted her attempts to coerce him towards the front of the cart, only succeeding in distracting him from the eccentric man across the water by using her tail to physically turn his head. Having had ample experience now in attaching their bits and tying them to the arms of the carriage, they were moving in no time at all. Progress was slow however, given the complete lack of path now present alongside the riverbank. This seemed to suit their intent perfectly however, as the shambling Az’kel speaker was far from swift in his old age and even with the horses having to backtrack and circumvent roots and uneven ground; they were threatening to overtake him. 

  
  


Azrielle kept her eyes out for dangers, with every gust of wind through the trees causing her tail to raise involuntarily, her arms looped tight around Henry’s as she peered over the edge of the cart and into the treeline to ensure they were not being stalked by slavers. The pair had expected to come across some large fur tent or perhaps even a ramshackle log cabin in just a few minutes of travel, after about fifteen minutes they had yet to spot any kind of dwelling. Azrielle was almost about to slip into their carriage to fill her water bottle up, beginning to feel the discomfort of cold creeping through her coat and blanket, when Henry spotted a steady plume of smoke coming from somewhere through the trees up ahead. Surprised by this discovery, having assumed the wild man lived alone, Azrielle called out to the now whistling Roland as she carefully clambered on to Henry’s lap to better benefit from his body heat. 

  
  


The rich and delightfully florid notes leaving her tongue were wholly unfamiliar to Henry, and though he enjoyed their sound nonetheless. Roland seemed to have no such issue comprehending the sun-kissed woman, chuckling to himself as he adjusted the patchwork trousers that seemed just a tad too loose to adequately preserve his modesty were they to be left untouched every dozen steps. His reply was somewhat rambling, even given his fast-paced Az’kel dialect, with Henry eventually tuning him out as he shifted his arms and legs to better accommodate the petite beauty now sat sideways on his lap. He slowly flexed his fingers and toes, wincing at their stiffness and apparent continued ache, but the fact none of his limbs were unusually hot or painful meant he had so far staved off any infections; something that had been a great concern of his for the first few days after being mauled. He began to dwell on the terror and hopelessness that night had brought him, gripping the reins with white knuckles, almost able to feel their fangs still piercing and gouging his flesh…

  
  


“ _ Henry! Did you hear that?!” _ The Az’kel shouted, causing Henry to jump and audibly gasp in alarm given that her face was mere inches from his own. Azrielle, normally attentive and considerate to Henry’s feelings, was far too worked up to apologise and didn’t dwell on startling him nor forgetting he couldn’t understand Az’kel; and as such had not been able to follow along with Roland’s conversation in the slightest. When his eyes remained confused and did not match her own ecstatic glimmer, she gripped his face and pressed her lips against hers in an excitable peck. 

  
  


“ _ Roland says there are Az’kels! Many Az’kels! At his home, just, just, over there!”  _ She flailed her finger in the direction of the plume of smoke, literally bouncing up and down on his lap in elation, though not in the pleasant way and certainly not in a way that was kind to his healing leg. She quickly came to a stop, whispering a sheepish apology as she turned back to find a pained wince of her oovatyal’s face. She was about to nuzzle her cheek against his as an apology, but he waved her off with a smile, far more interested in this sudden revelation. 

  
  


“ _ Really?? This far north? Well I- how many? Are they from that ruined village we passed?” _ Henry asked, trying to mirror her excitement but finding an unexplained sinking feeling in his chest that he tried not to dwell on. Azrielle proceeded to list off around thirty different names, all of which were equally exotic and elegant sounding as her own, with Henry recognising a few that he must have picked out subconsciously from the stranger’s lengthy monologue just moments before. Azrielle’s tail rattled thunderously against the wooden floorboards beneath their feet, a cacophony of delight that rivalled that of tasting bacon for the first time. Henry smiled, but the sinking feeling only grew, as if a pit had opened up in his chest and was threatening to swallow him whole. 

  
  


She leaned over-enthusiastically over him to address Roland once more, about to ask if they were from the village a day or so north from here, only to find the grey-haired man had seemingly disappeared from the riverbank. She squinted her eyes, shifting over to the very edge of the rider’s seat as she looked desperately into the water itself worried that perhaps he’d fallen in. She could see no sign of him in the chilly crystalline water however, and despite how earnestly she wanted to find him, the cold was really getting to her now so she quickly retreated to the relative warmth of her lover’s lap. Henry tried to assure her that if he had fallen in they’d have heard it, and even if  _ they _ were too busy talking to hear, their trusty chauffeurs would have undoubtedly been startled by any splashing. Admittedly, though he tried his best to calm his rapidly more panicked partner, he himself couldn’t see where the stranger had disappeared to. 

  
  


As if mother nature herself had endeavoured to aid their ambition of spotting the fur-clad man, a great roaring creak of falling wood reverberated about the valley sending birds scattering and drawing the lover’s gaze a few hundred metres along the river where a tree was mid-fall into the frigid river. The horses stopped and reared in panic, with Henry doing his best to calm them and stop them from tearing the limbs of the carriage off in their panic or worse yet tipping them into the river itself; Azrielle clung tight to his chest with wide astonished eyes as she watched the tree seem to slow to a halt half way down it’s descent. Henry noticed this too, quickly coming to the realisation that this was no singular tree; it was three trunks affixed together. The mass of wood creaked and groaned and juddered in the air, moving further and further down with each jarring movement, before audibly splashing into the icy river where it now remained still. With a delighted gasp, Azrielle clapped her hands together and rattled her tail in cheer as she watched Roland walk out into the middle of the river atop the log bridge. 

  
  


He waved at them enthusiastically, beckoning them towards him as he excitedly seemed to perform a little jig perched above the slow-moving glacial melt. Azrielle couldn’t help but laugh, informing Henry that she liked this strange man very much, but though her lover smiled he couldn’t help but shake off the quiet dread looming at the edges of his mind. There were other Az’kel here, so it must be safe for them. His gaze shifted down to the leather reins in his hands, thumbing the scrapes and rapidly forming scars that now adorned them. What if Azrielle decided that she wanted to stay here? He had anticipated getting to spend the better part of a year with his wonderful bubbly companion, but would it not be for the best if she remained here and not risk the no doubt risk-filled journey still ahead of them? Lost in his thoughts, absentmindedly guiding the horses through the trees towards the rustic looking bridge, it was only when Azrielle shifted once again across his lap to wave merrily at Roland as they pulled up beside the bridge that alertness returned to him. 

  
  


“ **_Mat’ótt! Mat’ott!_ ** ” The elderly man called out, gesturing with his hands back up the river to the north. The pair craned their necks round to look over the top of the carriage, but saw nothing of particular import beyond a small fork in the river on the opposite side of them.

  
  


“ _ Roland says quick, must go quick, though Azrielle is not sure why…” _ The Az’kel admitted, her tail raising slightly behind her as if ready to defend her lover from some unseen threat. Henry scratched his chin, wincing as his fingers found a particularly sore laceration that had not quite healed. As if piggybacking on this unexpected jolt of pain, the realisation of the old man’s urgency was clarified at once.

  
  


“ _ The ice in the river, he must want us to cross before any big chunks come and damage the bridge. But uh…” _ Henry looked from their horses, stood diligently at the front of the cart, their necks craned to the right inspecting the three-wide tree crossing. It seemed to him as if they were having the same though: There was no way their carriage would be able to get across. As he pondered whether it was a good idea at all to cross, still unable to see any sign of civilisation beyond a steady plume of smoke hidden just behind the treeline across the water, Henry did not notice as the elderly man hobbled across the bridge towards them.

  
  


Azrielle however noticed at once, being a little apprehensive and simultaneously fascinated by the man who spoke her mother tongue, eyeing him suspiciously as he approached the front of their cart. Despite the mystery and unknown intentions of this figure, she felt reasonably safe as he approached. After all, as much as she would hate to do it and even the thought of such violence against a seemingly friendly figure appalled her, she would have no trouble sending him sprawling into the icy creek behind him with a single strike of her tail. As Henry shifted to look at the carriage’s side, seeming to be taking mental measurements of its width, Roland moved to take something out of his pocket. Azrielle’s eyes widened, her grip on Henry’s arm tightening, fearing that her fears were about to be realised and that he was about to produce a weapon of some kind and injure their sweet horse friends. Instead of any blade or bludgeon, he produced a seemingly half eaten orange object, Azrielle’s tail relaxing at once as he took a small nibble of the apparently crunchy food source before offering it to the closest horse: Handsome. 

  
  


As was typical for the eccentric equine, his wide bug-eyes stared unblinkingly at the man offering him sustenance. Roland chuckled, quietly reassuring the horse in Az’kel that it was a simple tasty treat for him. Much to Azrielle’s surprise, it was Ohtyl that took the first bite; the stocky grey-coated chauffeur apparently had associated the exotic sounds of the Az’kel language with being fed, thanks to his sun-kissed caretaker’s pleasant chatter at feeding time no doubt. The normally docile horse, still restrained to the carriage, craned his neck under his brother’s and snatched an eager bite at the curious orange snack Roland offered it. The sharp satisfying snap as he began chomping up the firm vegetable caused Henry to whirl back around, alarmed to find Roland mere feet from them and currently feeding their horses.

  
  


“ _ H-hey! What do you think you’re...” _ He trailed off as Azrielle squeezed his arm reassuringly, running her delicate fingers up and down his arm.

  
  


“ _ Ohtyl likes him~” _ The silver-haired woman cooed, firmly believing that someone who was kind to her big furry friends must have good intentions. Henry was still unconvinced, or perhaps a little jealous considering that very same horse had run him down a little over a week ago. He turned his gaze to Handsome, hoping that at least his faithful albeit quirky friends might be a bit wary of th-... Handsome was eating his coat.

  
  


“ _ It’s just because he’s feeding them a carrot” _ Henry scoffed, with Azrielle to move her lips in time with this new word, adding it to her ever expanding lexicon of human terms. Despite having only just learned it’s name, she could tell it was a vegetable of some kind without asking given that the horses were happily munching on it. The distraction of the bridge had pushed the excitement from her mind at meeting other Az’kel, her tail rattling loudly as she hopped down off of the cart. She wobbled over to meet Roland, before doing something Henry had never seen before. She held her hand out, and for a moment it looked as if she were about to swing her bludgeon-like tail round and strike his neck. Thankfully, its descent slowed dramatically until the arrow-shaped tip was resting firmly against the side of his neck just under his chin. He smiled, taking her hand in his, and for a moment the two just stood in silence with their eyes closed. Henry glanced at the horses, who glanced at him with wide unblinking eyes that mirrored the confusion he felt; though he suspected their attention was only on Henry as they expected him to produce a carrot from his pocket much like Roland had. 

  
  


As soon as the apparent greeting was over, both Azrielle and Roland broke into joyous laughter, his wheezy spluttering chuckle an odd accompaniment to her pleasant music-like tones. He turned to Henry with his hand extended, who was currently adjusting his belt. Henry lumbered forward, with Azrielle noticing her companion walking a little taller than he normally would even despite his injuries. She sighed, shaking her head with a smile; it seemed men were men no matter their race, always competitive. Roland held his hand out and closed his eyes, with Henry mistaking his intent to be a far more human gesture and shaking his hand awkwardly as he shrugged at Azrielle. After all, it was not like either of them had a tail to do… whatever it was Azrielle and him had done. Roland laughed, turning to Azrielle and saying something in Az’kel. Judging by Azrielle’s expression, he had made a joke of some kind. He wasn’t left wondering what had been said for long though, however.

  
  


“ _ Roland says you are strong man, but that I must teach you proper Az’kel greeting” _ Azrielle teased, giggling slightly as she squatted down near the water’s edge to study the bridge closely. As she prodded it with her tail, occasionally lashing out at harmlessly small chunks of ice with her bludgeon before they could collide with the bridge, Henry sighed deeply as he watched her. It felt like their journey might be at an end, knowing that just beyond the treeline was probably an entire village of men and women just like her. He couldn’t compare to any of them surely, not as an oovatyal in anycase. Hells, he hadn’t even known how to greet her properly. Anxiety began to get the better of him, fiddling with his sleeve as he tried and failed to reassure himself of their partnership. He was about to pull her aside, to put voice to his worries in the hope that she would either confirm them and stop his worrying, or put them to rest with a delicate meeting of her lips against his. Before he could approach her however, he was cut off by Roland striding out in front of him with Handsome in tow.

  
  


“ _ Hey wait! Azrielle, he’s taking Hands- hey! You can’t just! Uh…” _ Henry watched dumbfounded as the strange man led his ill-named horse casually across the river, holding on to the horse’s reins as if he had made this journey hundreds of times before. Azrielle jumped up in surprise as the horse passed her, holding her hands to her mouth in shock and fear as she worried for Handsome’s safety; petrified that at any moment the horse would panic and launch them both into the icy depths below. Handsome did no such thing thankfully, his jaw locked on to the man’s now slobber coated shawl and much too focused on chewing it to care in the slightest about the water either side of him. Roland stopped safely on the other side, gesturing for Azrielle and Henry to follow him, before disappearing just behind the treeline in the direction of the smoke. 

  
  


“ _ Bloody horse has no allegiance to his dad, just wandering off willy-nilly with strange men into the woods. Maybe you’re my favourite horse after all Ohtyl.” _ Henry joked, turning and frowning slightly as he saw Ohtyl beginning to shift uneasily and pull against his harness; impatient and anxious to be reunited with his brother. 

  
  


“ _ Henry, can we… should we… across the...” _ Azrielle slowly walked up to the lumberjack as he was already beginning to unfasten Ohtyl from the harness, watching as Azrielle leaned against the animal’s thick furry coat. Her expression had changed from excitement to something more closely resembling fear, and he was a little concerned that her normally rich caramel coloured skin had started to pale a little about her lips and cheeks. He took her by the hand after unfastening the last of the horse’s harness, leading her into their quaint little carriage. She sat down slowly, her wide emerald eyes searching his face for an explanation of their trip inside, but she let out a quiet thankful moan as the heat began to seep back into her body; having been neglecting her health over her excitement. Henry began bundling the second of their blankets around her and tucking it into what was formerly his coat, giving the dainty Az’kel a humorous almost bloated look. He smiled at her, genuinely pleased that she would be meeting more of her kind, yet having to force the smile to seem genuine courtesy of the potential abandonment he feared. 

  
  


“ _ Are you worried about crossing the water?” _ Henry asked, crouching down to be eye level with his companion sat beside the fire. She nodded shyly, a fierce blush adorning her cheeks. 

  
  


_ “Water is dangerous, Azrielle village all warn of deep water, get sucked down easily…” _ She explained, with Henry understanding immediately what it was she meant. From having lifted her up on multiple occasions, she was incredibly heavy for her diminutive size, no doubt courtesy of her bulky armour-plated tail; there was no way she could swim, let alone float. 

  
  


“ _ Well, we’ll take it extra slow and you can hold my hand the entire way. I’ll hold on to Ohtyl so you don’t need to worry about him either, Ok? You won’t be going in the water, I promise. Besides, if you trip or fall in I’ll just dive right in after you and scoop you up, so there’s nothing to worry about” _ Henry explained with a smile, Azrielle’s lips mirroring his gentle smile as her tail rattled pleasantly. The woodcutter decided not to dwell on the fact he didn’t know if he would even be able to tread water while supporting her weight, but he was not exactly worried she would fall in as the bridge seemed sturdy enough. Just as they set out to leave to rejoin Roland and their patchwork horse, Azrielle looped her tail around her oovatyal’s back and planted a delicate kiss on his lips. Though she did not know why he was uneasy, she had grown close enough to her lover to be able to tell when something was troubling him. 

  
  


As they left the carriage Henry extinguished the fire and made sure to take the quiver of bolts with them as they left, just in case. They were surprised to see their apparently Az’kel speaking stallion already on the other side of the river, stomping his hooves impatiently as he shook his head in frustration. Henry shook his head with a sigh, prompting a nervous giggle from Azrielle who whilst fearful of the water was more than able to appreciate his annoyance at the seemingly so disloyal horses. She reassured him that he loved Henry very much and was just eager to rejoin his brother, before closing her eyes and taking a sharp breath inwards as they stepped onto the bridge. It was sturdy, far more sturdy than Henry had anticipated. The logs were old and well-cared for, and as he led his lightly trembling lover by the hand over the river he was surprised to see several thick metal bars holding the three tree-trunks-turned-bridges together. Not only that, there were thick fibrous ropes affixed to the end of the bridge that trailed in the water either side of the logs, no doubt part of the mechanism for lowering and raising the construct. 

  
  


Azrielle let out a small squeak as she opened her eyes and peeked over the edge into the icy water below, with Henry placing both hands on her shoulders as he calmly guided her forward. Even with Azrielle somewhat panicking, the river was hardly wide and in less than a minute they’d arrived safely on the opposite bank. As Azrielle breathed a sigh of relief and muttered something in Az’kel, Henry’s eyes followed the thick ropes off to the right where they moved between two trees. He had expected perhaps a team of mules or work horses that would pull the bridge back up, after all it couldn’t remain down for long or the next inevitable large chunk of ice might just carry it along with it in it’s journey southwards. Azrielle patted Ohtyl reassuringly on the side, who had apparently been waiting for his owners to join him as the moment she did so he trotted between the trees in the direction of the ropes suspended off of the ground affixed to the bridge. 

  
  


Moving between the trees, at first Henry felt momentary pride as his gaze fell upon a horse stood near Roland and the end of the ropes; only to shake his head as he realised it was simply Handsome who was being anything but helpful as currently he was chewing on the aforementioned rope. His gaze moved past Roland and his horses, raising an eyebrow in impressed disbelief as he took in the sight of the large water wheel just behind them both. Roland waved at them both as he spotted them, quickly swatting Handsome away from the ropes which had now adjoined together into one thick knot. He attached the knot to a notch on the waterwheel as one of it’s spokes slowly raised past him, and with it the creak and groan of wood began again behind them; the bridge lifting slowly back to an upright position. Henry was quick to jog over to the water wheel, fascinated by the odd grooves and slots on the large wooden construct that allowed for such a feat of engineering. The old man laughed as he slid the thick knot of rope into a large metallic hook that jutted from the ground at the far side of the water wheel, holding the rope still and taut and allowing the wheel to turn unimpeded. 

  
  


Azrielle approached slowly, asking Roland something in her mother tongue that even to the untrained ear of the wood-cutter, was very clearly laden with awe and spectacle. The lumberjack turned to face her, about to comment on how he’d seen one such water wheel near a farm where he lived, only to realise Azrielle’s wide azure eyes were locked firmly off to the side directly adjacent to the enormous wooden roller. Following her line of sight, Henry was surprised to find directly next to and indeed attached to the waterwheel was a large wooden building. That was, the upper half of the building was wood. It reminded Henry of the town hall in Lampveller; a large square building made of stone with numerous slits and windows dotting its length from which supposedly arrows were once shot. That was of course save for the fact that this castle-like building had no discernible openings at all, and was far larger than the comparatively meager dwelling of his town’s council members. 

  
  


He estimated it to be about ten times the width of their carriage, and easily two or maybe even three stories high. It’s foundations were a familiar dark grey metal, much like the foundations of one of the Az’kel abodes they’d happened across on their way here, though it looked much more well maintained and fit for purpose than the cobbled together construct from before. There was a single enormous door that began almost a foot off the ground, which Roland opened for them with surprising ease, the door itself turning out to be much thinner than the surrounding logs that formed the walls. As soon as the door was opened, there was a blast of warm air that accompanied it, prompting a grateful rattle of the tail from the amazed Az’kel woman. She looked to Henry with her mouth agape, pointing in utter disbelief at the enormous building. 

  
  


“ _ Remind you of home?” _ He questioned, putting his hands in his pockets as he cautiously approached the entrance and stood beside her. Though it was clear he was as impressed and surprised as she was, his tone betrayed the apprehension he was so desperately trying to suppress. In part to comfort him, and in part to comfort herself, she looped her arms around his and walked forward with him keeping her body pressed firmly against his side. 

  
  


“ _ This is like nothing Azrielle has ever seen! Az’kel here have enormous forest house! Azrielle’s house only have one forest, this must have…”  _ She paused, as if to try to count the towering ex-trees that formed it’s walls before swiftly giving up. “ _ So many forests! Yes!” _ She surmised in excitement, her tail a percussion accompaniment to their footsteps as it’s rattle seemed not to cease. It was now, for the first time, that Henry realised Azrielle had gotten two words mixed up: tree and forest. Apparently, she had someone confused one word for the other. Now was hardly the time to correct her however, as he was just as easy to step inside this enormous fortress-like building as she was. 

  
  


Once inside the building, it was clear to see why the interior was so warm; the building was seemingly hollow except for a large rusted metal dome in the very centre, with a raging bonfire visible in it’s centre. Indeed, this seemed to be a similar construct of malformed metal as the previous Az’kel buildings they had happened across, except with the notable exception of it being encased in a clearly man-made wooden fort. The second thing the pair noticed was that it was noticeably less dim than many of the buildings they had been in, and after not noticing any candles or torches scattered about, it was only when they looked up that they noticed the peculiar light source. Squinting, it took a moment to realise that they were looking up at the sun itself peeking out from behind some thick wooly clouds; the roof was made of glass. It was not one enormous smooth sheet however, and in fact it mirrored the strange cobbled together look of the dome in the centre of the building in that it was formed of hundreds of oddly shaped glass shards that were seemingly held together by a vast intertwining net of rusted metal. Some pieces of glass were enormous, easily larger than Handsome and Ohtyl stacked atop one another, whilst others were likely no bigger than the wheels of their wagon. 

  
  


Beyond the huge disparity in their size, the shapes of these large glass shards were equally varied. Some looked mostly oval in nature, whilst others looked like enormous jagged teeth that splintered and stuck out at odd angles. The metal roofing that seemed to slither between these glass pieces was equally perplexing, with Henry having never seen such a thing before. It was as if the glass chunks were submerged in a lake of molten metal, with the metal cooling and hardening perfectly between them. In fact even with his admittedly limited knowledge of metal working, he hadn’t the slightest clue how such a complex looking roof could possibly be constructed. The metal that held these glass chunks in place was no more than an inch wide, snaking and following their forms perfectly to form what certainly looked to be an airtight and indeed water-tight roof. 

  
  


The third and final thing the pair noticed was, unfortunately, how empty the enormous building was. They had expected voices, footsteps, or anything at all to indicate the couple of dozen Az’kel Roland had claimed lived here. There was nothing but the steady crackle of fire and the creaking of wood behind them as Roland closed the door however, immediately putting Henry on edge as he gripped the handle of his hunting knife fixed firmly to his waist. Azrielle was apparently too enraptured by the unique scenery to sense any danger, and luckily for her it seemed that there was no danger to sense as Roland harmlessly passed them both and beckoned them towards the central metal dome structure. He began speaking as he set about adding coal and timber to the large brazier in the centre of the dome, the fire itself standing almost as tall as he was. Azrielle squeezed Henry’s arm tight as they followed him forward, the lack of her kind beginning to dawn on her for the first time. 

  
  


Entering the dome, it was nearly identical to the one they had sheltered in previously, though this one looked a lot less like a derelict ruin and a lot more like a home. Surrounding the large central bonfire were numerous bedrolls, the walls adorned with furs and cloaks and all manner of tools and trinkets hung from hooks. The temperature in here was almost tropical, and as Henry turned to ask if this was how hot her home was, he noticed tears forming in her eyes and decided to hold his tongue. He put a protective arm around her shoulders, waiting patiently for Roland to stop saying whatever it was he was telling Azrielle about. As he finished adding a few final logs, he dusted his hands off and looked to her with a frown. Azrielle took a few moments to steady herself, leaving the suddenly thick tension of the room to be only permeated by the crackle of the flames. 

  
  


“ _ Roland’s Az’kel speaking is strange, Azrielle thinks… maybe she misunderstood his meaning” _ She admitted as she stifled a sniffle, wiping the tears from her cheek with her sleeve. Roland seemed to sense the misunderstanding, gingerly approaching the visibly upset woman and placing a delicate hand on her forearm. Henry held her tight, and as he looked to the fire searching for words of comfort to give her, he instead saw what she had clearly spotted whilst he had been looking at the walls. Arranged neatly around the campfire, evenly spaced and pointed towards the flickering flames, were over a dozen obsidian cudgels; they were Az’kel tails. Henry imagined such a sight to be quite distressing for his companion, after all he’d feel more than a little on edge were he to see the same morbid display but replaced with skulls, and he turned to Roland with a sternness to his gaze that wordlessly demanded an explanation.

  
  


The weathered man slowly removed his hand from Azrielle’s wrist, taking his shawl off and holding it in his hands as he addressed them both. He had apparently not yet grasped the fact that Henry could not understand a word of his tongue, but Azrielle was quick to provide a deflated but no less helpful translation. Roland lived alone here, he had three older brothers and a sister, but they were all gone now. He gestured to the Az’kel tails, explaining that they were of those who came before, a cohort of Az’kel that from the way he talked about them were as much a part of the family as his own human siblings. As he steadily wandered the circumference of the fire, delicately reaching down and touching each stone-like arrowhead, no translation was needed as it was clear he was naming each of the Az’kel the bludgeons once belonged to. Once he had fully navigated the outside of the fire, he turned back to the pair with a bittersweet smile upon his face. 

  
  


“ _ Roland says he keeps them warm, no matter how long ago they… passed. Az’kel always home here, and home always kept warm for them.” _ She explained, a faint smile returning to her disappointed expression. Though she had hoped to meet those of her kind here, she took solace in the fact that those who had dwelled here before were being shown respect in Roland’s own unique way. Henry was so far unconvinced however, keeping his hand on his hunting knife at all times and making sure to keep an ear out for any approaching footsteps from behind. None came however, and as he looked about the dome, he noticed the large metal sphere suspended just above the bonfire. It took him a moment to comprehend exactly what it was, after all it was not everyday that you saw a man-sized metallic sphere affixed to the roof, but given it’s position above the fire he realised he was probably looking at the underside of a large pot or cauldron. The woodcutter cleared his throat, gesturing up towards the pot with his hand, hoping this might distract his lover from the morbid display before them. 

  
  


Roland glanced at the roof for a moment before gasping, realising perhaps that he had not succeeded in giving them a tour of his abode yet, and quickly ushered them both out of the dome. Their uneasiness at least somewhat settled, they could really take in the inside of the log-fort for the first time. It’s walls were littered with shelves carved right into the thick trunks, with many different clay pots, furs, and miscellaneous items placed at varying heights. There were bunks too, stacked one atop the other extending almost 30ft up to the ceiling itself with well-crafted wooden ladders allowing access to the lofty sleeping spots. Indeed, it seemed that once upon a time this building provided shelter to a great many residents, though all but one of the bunks looked like they had not been used in a very long time if the visible layer of dust was anything to go by. The floor itself was visible in places, that thick dark grey metal that was visible at the base of the building from the outside, though mostly the floor was covered in pelts and cloth. 

  
  


As they rounded the central dome structure however, the floor sharply descended as the sheet of smooth dark metal abruptly came to an end with a few wooden steps taking them down to ground level. To the woodcutter’s surprise, the rear half of the building’s interior seemed to be used as a greenhouse, with several plants he did not recognise sprouting from the exposed earth. Judging by the alarmingly loud rattle emanating from his companion however, Azrielle knew exactly what was being grown. She turned to Roland with an excited gasp, her voice barely audible over the reverberations of her thick scales, her body bouncing up and down in apparent elation. Roland chuckled with a nod of his head and though it sounded more like a wheezy heartfelt struggle for air at times, it was a joyous sound nonetheless. Azrielle spun on her heels, practically launching herself at Henry with her tail as she wrapped her arms around him.

  
  


“ _ Roland grows  _ **_Kött'um_ ** _ here! Henry you must try some, is proper Az’kel food! Oh-oh-oh, Azrielle will ask if Roland will let us eat some!” _ The delighted woman asked, practically bouncing back over to Roland as she took him by the hands and presumably asked him if they could eat one tonight. With a warm smile that only the happiness of his lover could cause, Henry turned his attention to the curious plants the fur-covered man was growing in this strange indoor greenhouse of a building. 

  
  


Henry crouched down beside one of the plants, and the closer he inspected them the less they looked like a ‘plant’ as he knew them. What at first he had mistaken for a white bark-like stem, was near rock hard to the touch and could easily be mistaken for bone. This boney-stem was perfectly straight and stood only a foot high, it was about as wide as his forearm, culminating in a singular large leaf though not shaped like any he’d seen before. The leaf took the shape of a funnel, with the centre of the funnel-like shape the hollow opening of the very top of the stem. As Henry leaned in closer, he was startled by a large droplet of water falling from the ceiling, landing perfectly into the centre of the Kött’um’s opening with a splash. Looking up, he realised that there was a grid of rusty looking pipes suspended from the ceiling, with small holes dripping a steady supply of water into each of the two dozen Kött’um plants that were growing here. Tracing the pipes back to their origin, Henry was surprised to see them protruding from the very top of the central dome structure; using the large heated cauldron suspended above the bonfire as a water source. Sure enough as he held his hand out over the top of the closest otherworldly-looking plant to catch a droplet of water, it was near boiling to the touch.

  
  


Curiously of all was the apparent lack of… well… anything that looked remotely edible? When the woodcutter had asked his Az’kel accomplice all those nights ago what it was that Az’kel ate in her homeland, she had insisted it was meat of some description that came up out of the ground. He puzzled over the white bone-like stalk before him, pondering if as the outside resembled bone perhaps the inside of the stem was, well, meat? He leaned over the funnel-like leaf and though he did not see any obvious meat-like colours, much to his partial relief as the thought was quite unsettling, he was immediately struck by a sickeningly sweet smell. It was as if the inside of this tough snow coloured tube was filled with nothing but sugar and honey, only further confusing him as to what exactly it was these two had been eating all their lives. He shouted in surprise as delicate hands landed abruptly on his shoulders; Azrielle joined him at his back peering over his shoulder at his investigation of the plant, with Roland squatting down just to his side. He expected them to offer some kind of explanation, or perhaps to burst into laughter at having deceived him into thinking this odd plant could possibly be by any stretch of the imagination a food source. Roland tapped the stem of the plant, before nodding to Henry with an encouraging smile. 

  
  


“ _ Roland says Henry may prepare the meal, is special job for the… um… leader of the house? Azrielle knows not the right words in Human~” _ She cooed, massaging his shoulders gently, her eyes focused eagerly on the familiar plant in front of them. Henry laughed nervously, looking from Roland who was simply smiling with that wide semi-toothless grin of his and nodding in support. 

  
  


“ _ So, what do I… Azrielle what do I do?” _ Henry asked nervously, extremely weirded out by the situation though feeling immediate pressure thanks to Azrielle’s explanation that this was some important job he should feel honoured to be doing. The woman giggled, her music-like tones putting her nerves to bed at once.

  
  


“ _ Henry must lift it up out of the ground, silly~” _ Azrielle teased, as if this was the most logical course of action he could possibly take when assigned the task of preparing a meal. Henry nodded, remembering in that moment that what she had actually told him previously was that they got the meat from under the ground, not out of it. Not wanting to disappoint, he grabbed the white stalk of the strange plant, finding it to be warm to the touch, and pulled upwards. At first there was seemingly no give, but as he adjusted his stance and strained as he lifted with his legs; he was surprised to find the portion of the plant below the ground to be enormous compared to the stout stalk that stook out above it. 

  
  


Hanging just below the bone-like stick was what looked to be an enormous radish or perhaps root vegetable of some description, though far larger than anything Henry had ever seen grown before. It was almost perfectly spherical, with a slight tear drop shape where the top of the large white coloured orb was adjoined to the stalk. It was as white as snow, it’s diameter slightly less than his forearm, and as he moved to touch it he was surprised to find it had a waxy texture. He held it in his hands for a moment, looking at the seemingly overgrown onion with utter bewilderment. He’d never seen anything like this before, and it was no wonder Azrielle had had a hard time relating it to anything he’d know. The lumberjack felt out of his depth, and gave a thankful nod to Roland as he reached out to take the plant off of him. 

  
  


With a quick twist of the bloated white ball, it detached completely from it’s hardy rock-like stem with an extremely satisfying popping sound. He tossed the kött’um bulb to Azrielle playfully, before getting down on to his knees and whistling an unfamiliar tune as he set to work carefully replanting the spine-like mono-leafed stalk and taking great care to pile dirt around it to hold it upright; after all it was now deprived of its sizable subterranean ballast. Azrielle meanwhile caught the bulb dexterously with her tail, curling the end of her tail around it’s base as it landed cleanly atop the coiled end of her tail. Henry scratched his head as he watched her play around with it, batting it up and down with the bludgeon of her tail with seemingly little concern for the integrity of the pale bulb. Seeing that Henry was visibly unsure of this strange food source, she delicately allowed it to roll down the great bumpy scales of her tail before softly coming to rest in the woodcutters arms once more. 

  
  


“ _ Henry will like this very much, is like… Az’kel family will crack Kött’um open and all partake in the eating of it’s flesh… uh… meat? Flesh is not good for-” _ Henry couldn’t help but smile, reminded of a conversation they’d had the other night about some of her more peculiar word choices. 

  
  


“ _ Flesh is not a tasty sounding word, no. We don’t like eating flesh, we eat meat. Though I’ll be honest Azzy, I’ve never known meat to uh… well to grow? Like, from a plant? Is this why you don’t believe pigs are real?” _ He joked, trying to seem far more comfortable with the situation that was clearly very alien to him than he was, self conscious that presumably this was quite mundane for the others and he was therefore the odd one out. Azrielle’s tail was now free of the responsibility of cradling their meal, and therefore was carefully positioned to be resting menacingly under Henry’s chin against his throat. Or rather, it would have been menacing, had she not performed this exact move before. Pretending to be nonethewise to her plans, he watched her make sure Roland had turned away ready to guide them to where they would be eating, before just like he suspected he felt his head turned towards his lover with her powerful appendage; his lips quickly met by the soft familiarity of the sun-kissed woman as she stole a brief but passionate kiss. 

  
  


“ _ Azrielle eats flesh, sound tasty to this Azrielle, yes~” _ She teased, playfully pressing the end of his nose with the very end of her obsidian-like tail, before curling it firmly around his waist as they followed Roland’s lead. Admittedly when he had first met her, the strength and size of her jet-black tail had intimidated him and he was nervous every time it moved in his vicinity. But now, the feeling of the strong embrace provided by her sleek serpent-like bodypart brought him immeasurable comfort that was only rivalled by her slender arms when inevitably pulled into a warm hug before bed. His brief moment of bliss was interrupted by a smirk however, rolling his eyes as he heard the exotic woman disparaging the existence of pigs teasingly under her breath.

  
  


As they continued in a clockwise direction around the Az’kel dome, dodging dripping water from the pipes above and mindful of not trampling any of the numerous other kött’um crops underfoot, they soon found themselves ascending a handful of rickety wooden steps back onto the great grey slab that formed the floor of a little over half of the building. The floor here was not covered in furs and hand-woven blankets like it had been on the opposite side of the entrance however, with only small circular pelts of fur that acted as sitting places around a squat table. As Roland and Azrielle sat either side of the table, Henry sat beside her albeit uncomfortably given the fact this table was only a foot off the ground and he had spent his life sitting on chairs whenever attending a table. This particular furniture piece was also made of an enormous slab of slate, and though the other two seemed more than comfortable sat with their legs crossed beneath it, he couldn’t help but worry about the possibility of the table’s legs giving out and his own getting squashed. 

  
  


Placing the over-sized onion shape of the kött’um bulb at the centre of the table, it was immediately apparent why such a sturdy surface was necessary to eat off of in this house; The moment the bulb stopped wobbling and sat still, Azrielle struck it with alarming strength at the very tip of it’s tear-shaped bulge, and at once the odd vegetable flowered out from the force. The Lumberjack shielded his eyes, expecting the kött’um to explode into mush from such a ferocious downward strike, but instead he found it had cleanly split itself into evenly sized segments that reminded him of wedges of cheese. There were a dozen of these such wedges, with the texture of the now exposed insides of the bulb looking decidedly less onion-like and much more… well he had little frame of reference for it. It was the same pure white colour, but as he picked up one of the segments and prodded it, the ‘meat’ felt exactly like that; a tough consistent texture that reminded him of steak. 

  
  


Roland laughed heartily, gesturing towards a crude looking stone mallet he was holding aloft in his right hand, speaking a few words in Az’kel that made Azrielle visibly blush and speak a single word in return: “ **_Paeroha_ ** ”. Apparently his companion had been a bit too eager to start eating, but Roland didn’t seem to mind as he waved his hand at her dismissive of her embarrassment. He gestured to the hammer as he spoke some more, waving it about before placing it back down onto the table and eagerly rubbing his hands together before scooping up one of the kött’um slices. Azrielle did the same, though stopped as out of the corner of her eye she spotted the clearly lost expression of her non-fluent lover. She made a markedly adorable noise of audibly restraint as she moved the kött’um wedge away from her lips, clutching it close to her chest as if it were vital to her survival as she began translating what was said. 

  
  


“ _ Azrielle was gree- greedy? Yes, greedy. Much too quick in breaking open kött’um, silly Azrielle. Roland says he uses stone tool like Az’kel tail, but Roland not mind that Azrielle did it instead. Says he hasn’t seen a proper kött’um cracking since he was only little… a… hm…. Azrielle forgets word. When Roland was still a little human. _ ” She courteously explained, though was clearly struggling to hold eye contact with her lover as her gaze frequently strayed to the remaining wedges of Az’kel plant on the table. The lumberjack knew hunger when he saw it, finding himself unintentionally turned on as the desperate expression on her face as she eyed the kött’um was nearly identical to the expression with which she eyed his manhood when on her knees in front of him. Rather than compliment her remembrance and near-correct usage of a tricky word like ‘greedy’, or informing her that as amusing as the term ‘little human’ was the correct word was child, he instead simply nodded in appreciation of her translation and reached for a slice of the thick white plant himself. 

  
  


Azrielle was swift in her attack, taking the moment Henry’s hand touched the kött’um slice nearest him as permission to begin her feast. She was unapologetic for the ferociousness with which her fangs sunk into the meaty innards of the white dinner food, tearing a chunk out of the crescent shaped foodstuff and setting to work gnashing it into pulp between her jaws. Her tail was thunderous against the metal behind her, and for a moment Henry was a little frightened, not knowing her tail could be quite so loud in it’s celebratory vibrations. A delighted and satisfied moan left her lips as she swallowed the mouthful of mysterious white plant matter, commenting that she had not eaten ‘real Az’kel food’ in almost a year. Henry laughed with delight at the reverberations of her tail, and as he swallowed a mouthful of the stuff himself, Azrielle provided a live translation for her boyfriend. 

  
  


“ _ Roland says he remembers being little human-Roland, when was meal time all Az’kel fa-... all Roland’s Az’kel family would cause the floor to shake with their tails. Roland says he is happy to hear the sound again, makes him uh… happy memories? Give him happy memory-feelings, f-for something that happened long time ago.” _ Though Azrielle’s tone betrayed her difficulty in explaining something she clearly did not know the Human word for, she had still perfectly conveyed the meaning to her lover. The man found the sound nostalgic and though Henry had admittedly felt more and more at ease the more he had been in the scruffy man’s company, hearing that he referred to the Az’kel he had once lived with as ‘family’ only served to relax him further. 

  
  


It took a moment for Henry to realise that the conversation, and indeed the meal itself, had stopped completely as the host and his girlfriend stared at him with the same excitement and anticipation. He had been carefully prodding and running his fingers along the inner ‘meat’ of the strange crescent of the large bulb, noting that much like a wheel of cheese: it also had an outside waxy layer that just by touch alone seemed tougher and decidedly less edible than the innards it once protected. Peer pressured by his companions, he gingerly took the oddly shaped portion of food up to his lips and took a small manageable bite. After all, just because the elderly man opposite him could eat it didn’t mean that it was necessarily good for a human to eat; toying with the idea that Roland might secretly be the same age as himself and only looks ancient as an effect of the food he ate.

  
  


The moment his teeth made contact with the white flesh of the kött’um, he found himself having to put a lot more force than he had previously presumed into separating the mouthful from the rest of the wedge. It was tough. Really tough. At once he realised just how vital those pointed teeth of Azrielle’s were if this is what they were eating all day, once again impressed by her physical capabilities as he remembered just how effortlessly she had tore free a chunk almost twice the size of what he struggled to masticate now. The taste was pleasant though, much to his delight, reminding him greatly of meat which clarified why his companion had been so adamant that it was different to the ‘dirt-lumps’ Azrielle so adamantly referred to potatoes and onions as. The more he chewed it the more flavour was released, almost having a smoked lamb taste to it, unable to place it precisely on his palette but definitely filing it under the ‘tasty meat’ section of his mind.

  
  


He closed his eyes as he swallowed, struggling not to choke as he perhaps realised his overconfidence in his assumption that it had been adequately chewed, only opening one watery eye as he felt it slide slowly down his gullet and gave his audience a thumbs up. The gesture was evidently universal between their cultures, as Roland grinned and cheered in delight, holding his own wedge of the stuff up in a ‘cheers’ motion towards Henry before continuing to enjoy the meal before him. As they all ate, Azrielle had to stop the oblivious woodcutter as she noticed him trying to gnaw off a chunk of the wavy outer layer, informing him that it was to keep the kött’um safe and to hold; not for Henry to swallow. He nodded sheepishly, comparing it to a watermelon only to be met with an unfamiliar yet no less supportive smile from his companion. To his knowledge such things only grew in the south where it was hot, but perhaps despite their proximity to her homeland the meat-eater had little knowledge of exclusively human vegetation. 

  
  


After eating only half of the original slice, Henry was already beginning to feel the weight in his gut that came with overeating. Whatever this meaty plant was, it was most certainly filling. He was thankful for this fact however, as he feared for the integrity of his jaw were he to subject it to much more of the torture that was chewing the stuff. As he made incidental eye contact with Roland, the weathered man shot him a friendly smile which prompted a knowing smirk from the northern man. No wonder he had scarce few teeth left if this was what he had been eating all his life! Azrielle seemed to be taking great delight in the feast, and as Henry checked on her progress he was impressed to see three rinds of the kött’um segments picked clean of their accompanying innards. He knew the woman had a much bigger appetite than himself, undoubtedly courtesy of the enormous muscular appendage sprouting out of her lower back that no doubt guzzled sizable reserves of energy just to lift off of the ground, but as he watched her put down the fourth slice of the hearty plant he couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to maintain such a slender (and alluring) physique. 

  
  


As she finished up what one would think to be her first real meal in a very long time, Azrielle let out a satisfied sigh as she curled her tail upwards and used it as a back rest; something which Henry wished he could use, his own back aching in complaint at having sat without back support for so long. Looking over to Roland’s side of the table, he was relieved to see that the elderly man had only managed just the one slice much like Henry had; even if he had picked his clean whereas pieces of the white ‘meat’ still clung to Henry’s rind. Azrielle closed her eyes briefly, apparently exceedingly relaxed from having tasted something that she so closely associated with her home and therefore comfort, and while she did so the lumberjack watched as Roland’s expression changed from delight to something far more sly and bordering sinister. He motioned with his hand to the right, leaning forward on the table and holding his hand to the side of his mouth closest to Azrielle as he did his best to whisper to Henry.

  
  


“ _ Oovatyal?” _ Was the only word that left his lips, and he raised a curious eyebrow at Henry before nodding not-so-subtly at the reclined dark-skinned woman. Relieved to have finally understood something from the strange man’s mouth, Henry bristled with pride and nodded earnestly, unable to contain the accomplished-looking grin on his lips. All suspicion evaporated from Roland’s eyes as instead he smiled warmly, clasping his hands together in a delighted expression of joy. He reached his slightly-trembling hand into the colour of his sweat-stained shirt, grasping hold of an extremely brittle looking length of twine. He lifted it for Henry to see. It was a necklace, though there were no metal baubles nor jewels attached to the twine. Carefully cradled by this ancient looking string was a familiar obsidian-looking shape. He tapped the black arrowhead-like bludgeon with his fingers, looking down at it with an apparent sadness in his eyes before flicking back up to Henry with a warm smile.

  
  


“ _ Oovatyal.” _ He stated simply, his voice a little weaker than before as if trying to stave off tears. Henry nodded in understanding, a newfound kinship he had not expected blossoming to life for the elder before him. No wonder he had shown them such hospitality and kindness inviting them into his home, after all Henry and Azrielle were probably not all that different from him and his Az’kel lover in their youth. Henry gave him a nod of respect and acknowledgement of his kindness, a non-verbal display of communication unique to men that said more than a hundred words ever could. Roland gave him the nod back, something it seemed was intrinsically human and not decided by culture, a smile returning to his face as he tucked the Az’kel tail necklace back under his shirt. Azrielle opened her eyes, catching the very end of their exchange and leaning forward as she glanced between the two suspiciously. Caught red handed, both men looked to her then to each other before laughing, a sight that warmed the exotic woman’s heart at them having bonded despite being unable to communicate. 

  
  


They spent the next few hours chatting together, with Azrielle more than happy to act as a running translator and seeming to take great pride in her linguistic abilities. The old man regaled them with stories of his time here, how they lived off of the land and hunted for furs and meats and grew what they needed in this greenhouse. Azrielle wanted to know if they had any other Az’kel plants like Aloétta, but he didn’t seem to know what that was much to Azrielle’s disappointment. He told them of his oovatyal, an Az’kel woman named Palunette, and the poor Az’kel opposite him struggled to adequately translate the beautiful and strikingly poetic words he spoke to describe her. She kept repeating the word love to Henry, for she knew of no other word in Human that came close to describing the utter devotion and admiration of his late partner the man had. She had passed eight winters prior if his memory were to be trusted, and he admitted that it had been a struggle for him to hunting since.

  
  


This comment seemed to spark Azrielle’s interest, for though she did not have hunting experience herself as a scribe; she knew how Az’kel would hunt in her hometown. Sure enough, slapping his forehead as if being stupid for not showing her sooner, he hobbled off to one of the wall-mounted shelves and returned with a large leather sling. Or rather, the cradle for the projectile was leather. The slings she had seen at home, for hurling stones and cacti over astounding distances, were made entirely of leather. This one seemed to be made of some interwoven vine-like material that stretched and sprang elastically as she pulled on it. Sure enough, like the specialised hunting tools at home, either end of the sling was easily tied either side of the first large scale at the very end of her tail. Roland and Henry watched her try it out on a clay pot that Roland insisted he had no further use for courtesy of a large clumsily caused crack, carefully placing it into the leather cradle before raising her tail to the side and rotating the end of it in small circular movements. 

  
  


The movements of her tail looked identical to that of a traditional sling fired using the wrist, with Henry having fond memories whipping his wrist about in the very same circular motions before launching a stone across a frozen lake at some otherwise peaceful deer or hare in his youth. The power behind her tail however was orders of magnitude greater, and with just a few movements of her tail the pot and subsequently sling were a blur of motion. Her tail bent forwards as it’s pivoting motions stopped, loosing the pot at blinding speed towards the thick log wall. Even with the vertical trunks of well cared for wood being thicker than Henry’s torso and undoubtedly many magnitudes tougher; the entire wall reverberated with the force of the pot as it damn near evaporated on impact. What once was a heavy piece of hardened clay had been effortlessly reduced to rubble and dust courtesy of the frightening velocity with which Azrielle had launched it. The men stood in silent awe for a moment, shock on Henry’s face and a smile of familiarity on Roland’s, before erupting into cheers and applause at the destructive spectacle. 

  
  


Beaming with pride, Azrielle began setting to work untethering the sling from her tail as she blushed from the praise. After she and Henry spent a few minutes cleaning the shards from the dirt lest poor old Roland end up swallowing a bit more than just kött’um next time he dug one up. As Roland set about pulling a few carrots from the soil surrounding the various kött’um plants, whistling unfamiliar tunes as he took out a small blade and began chopping slices of carrots into the maw-like openings atop the alien looking plants; Azrielle expressed her worry for the horses. She didn’t like leaving them alone for so long, and wondered if perhaps they should take them back to the cart for a proper feeding. Henry agreed, and though both were reluctant to leave the near tropical temperature of the home-turned-greenhouse they both braved the cold to reunite with their horses. Much to the lumberjack’s dismay, his namesake had apparently not wandered far from the waterwheel, his face held next to it so that his lips were pushed about by the rising wooden panels; apparently enjoying the peculiar sensation. 

  
  


Upon hearing Azrielle call to him he was quick to trot over, with Ohtyl appearing from the surrounding treeline briskly and nuzzling his face against the top of her head. Apparently they had either missed her, or missed their usual lunchtime snack being delivered in a prompt manner. In anycase, Roland was more than happy to lower the bridge after sitting on the bank of the river and watching as an enormous carriage sized hunk of ice floated by. Azrielle translated for him as he informed the pair that once when he was young one of his brothers did not raise the bridge in time and a similar sized ice chunk tore the bridge completely from its base and damn near toppled the water wheel too. He shook his head and sighed, and once the hazard had passed he dutifully lowered the bridge for them to cross. Azrielle was quick to impress, crossing the bridge first at a brisk pace and turning back to grin at Henry from the opposite side; only lightly trembling from the scary experience of traversing deep and fatally cold water. The horses were quick to follow once they watched her great tail removing a stack of hay from atop the cart, with Henry crossing last and waving Roland a brief goodbye as he raised the bridge once more. 

  
  


They were only taking a brief trip to their home on wheels, intending on spending more time with the curious man and perhaps bartering for some of the more useful items of which he had plenty, though for now they took the time to rekindle their own personal heater and take inventory of their belongings. With the horses fed, Azrielle was free to sit back and relax on the comfortable cushioned seat that doubled as their bed. Henry was crouched by their iron fireplace, struggling to get the tinder to take to the sparks of his flint and steel. She studied his face, the way the lacerations and bruising enhanced his innate masculinity, admiring how he bit his lip in frustration as the dried pine needles stubbornly resisted their role as future kindling. Her heart thumped in her chest as her eyes lingered on his injuries and the bravery they portrayed, her gaze wandering down to his belt and the knife and crossbow affixed to his side. He had been so protective of her when Roland first appeared, ready to face any trap or ambush sprung upon them, placing himself in front of her with a determined look that said he would fight to his last breath for her without a second thought. 

  
  


As this train of thought sent excited shivers up and down her spine, she noticed her fingers wandering subconsciously up from the seat where they had been resting along her thighs. Subtly parting her legs, those same fingers moved between her supple thighs and lifted the skirt of her dress as they went. There was a spike of pleasure as they contacted the lace material of her underwear and rubbed against what lay beneath the alluring semi-transparent material. She had only lightly brushed her clit and yet it was already aching for attention, wondering if perhaps she should show restraint yet continuing to slowly rub her fingertips over the luxurious material as she did so. Henry let out a small frustrated grunt as the now smouldering kindling began to fade, cursing under his breath as he started letting sparks fly again. Perhaps it wasn’t selfish for her to indulge herself a little, after all, surely this morning had been stressful for her handsome hubby and a little relaxation was in order. 

  
  


As her fingertips began to glisten slightly with the growing lust steadily dampening her lingerie she steadily and imperceptibly began snaking her tail towards the frustrated fire-starter. Henry cursed again and again, regretting ever having let the fire die out in the first place, wondering what Azrielle must think of his struggle to perform such a seemingly simple task. He held the flint between his thumb and forefinger as he looked it up and down, wondering if perhaps Azrielle’s tail end could be used in a similar manner. As if on cue, that very same tail end gently caressed his chest. It moved up the fabric of his shirt and lay flat against his chin as it slowly and deliberately lifted his head. The sight he was met with created sparks of a different kind, with these finding considerably more success as they ignited Henry’s libido in an instant. Azrielle’s golden caramel thighs were playfully spread, her hand moving steadily beneath the fabric of her lightly shining panties, with her thumb on one side of the semi transparent fabric and her pinkie and ring finger pressed firmly against her inner thighs; leaving little doubt as to where the two remaining fingers currently resided. 

  
  


With a sly smirk and visible amusement she eyed her lover, evidently awestruck by the sight before him. He was already on his knees, and with such a tasty sight before him, he couldn’t help but start to lean forward towards it. There were shining beads of womanly lust beginning to trace down the contours of her inner thighs, the knuckles of her partly obscured fingers visibly damp as they partially emerged from beneath the top of her panties only to disappear repeatedly back down as they were pushed back inside of her. As her oovatyal leaned forward, her tail seemed to beckon him, moving with him with the dull point positioned tantalisingly at his chin making sure his gaze was well and truly transfixed by her actions. With a soft moan she visibly shuddered, her toes curling slightly and her thighs tensing. Henry gulped, the sound and sexually charged display by now causing an uncomfortable tightness of his trousers. She removed her fingers, silvery strings of deliciously sweet nectar connecting her fingers to her labia for a moment, before those very same fingers glided greedily between her lips. Her tail stopped it’s encouraging movements instead pressed firm against his chest and pushed him back, perhaps a tad too aggressively owing to the appetite overtaking her mind, nodding her head towards the fire still barely smouldering. 

  
  


“ _ Azrielle must stay warm, mustn't she? Here Azrielle thought Henry would take care of her~” _ She teased, suckling sensually on her fingers as her long tongue moved out from between her lips and traced the track left by a stray droplet of her mess as it dripped down her hand. Her long dark eyelashes fluttered at him, and for a moment Henry was so enraptured by the seductive woman that his mind was utterly blank. 

  
  


“ _ I… I can think of a better way of keeping you warm” _ Henry managed after a brief delay, his back straightening and his eyes locked intensely on her as he returned her confident gaze. He knew this game, with Azrielle getting more comfortable with him she had tried her hand at flirting in their nightly trysts, something she evidently enjoyed greatly. She returned his gaze with her smokey emerald eyes, and though she tried her hardest to continue the part she played, Henry felt the suppressed delighted shake of her tail against his chest. 

  
  


“ _ Oh? Azrielle would like to know how her oovatyal plans to do so without fire? This Henry must be very talented indeed to keep an Az’kel nice and hot unaided~” _ She cooed, her tail moving from his chest to his shoulder, where it looped around the back of his neck and edged him steadily closer to her crotch. Her fingers moved down her body, taking a moment to slowly outline the shape of her perky bosom under the tight fabric of her black and white maid dress, before coming to rest with her fingertips dipping just below the hem of her underwear. They moved in small circles, her eyes firmly on her rugged battle-scarred lover as she rubbed her clit slowly and sensually. 

  
  


“ _ I’m told I’m good at getting Az’kel women nice and hot... “ _ He began, formulating his plan of attack. She wanted him to take charge, and even if she didn’t, she’d love the surprise. Ignoring the ache of his leg he sprang forward quickly, her tail falling heavily to the floor behind him as his shoulders moved away, hooking his arms under her thighs and lifting her with seemingly no effort up off of the seat and holding her delicious entrance mere inches from his face. Azrielle gasped and her thighs tensed, prompting her lover to hold them even firmer and a renewed moan of stimulation to escape her lips. Unbeknownst to her, his arm ached and spasmed in protest of the heavy lifting given it’s barely-healed state, but Henry was on a mission and was not about to let a few aches and pains spoil the mood. 

  
  


“ _ Tell you what, if you ask me nicely, maybe I’ll ‘take care of you’ like you want me to.” _ He remarked with a gruff and gravelly tone to his voice that drove Azrielle wild; completely oblivious that such a tone of voice was him straining not to drop her with his rapidly fading arm strength. Whether through determination alone, or perhaps fuelled solely by lust and desire, he kept her aloft long enough for her to manage a reply. 

  
  


“ _ Take care of me, Henry” _ She whimpered, her fingers moving from her clit and pulling the visibly damp lace of her panties to the side, revealing the pink dripping honey pot that was her pussy. She was soaked already, perhaps having been tending to her needs for a while before Henry had noticed her doing so. The tantalising sight of her slick mess coated opening was too alluring to allocate adequate attention to his now near-agonising arm as it steadily began to shake and struggle with it’s task. He might have cursed himself for attempting such an ambition manoeuvre, fooled by her petite physique and forgetting the heft of her jet black tail, had his mind not gone blank the moment his cheeks met her thighs and his tongue delved within her. 

  
  


That distinctive moreish taste coated his tongue in an instant, the rich sweet honey he was quickly becoming addicted to. The further he pushed his tongue, the sweeter she tasted. Her warm walls welcomed his tongue, and every few moments he’d press his tongue upwards against them to send a fresh surge of sexual joy to his lover. Her tight walls tensed and tightened with every new depth he reached, those wave-like ripples of contractions seeking to almost pull his tongue deeper still. His lips were sealed firmly around her pussy and the slightly ticklish sensation of his beard against her thighs and clit drove her further into a sexual stupor. He was hers, this masculine warrior man from the north, bearing the scrapes and scars of battle in her name. The thought blossomed in her mind, seeming to physically metastasise as a sudden and very real orgasm that caught her thoroughly off guard. 

  
  


Her back arched uncontrollably and the raw desire leaving her lips was less of a sweet moan of satisfaction and more of a scream of potent sexual pleasure. Her thighs tightened to the point of discomfort either side of Henry’s face, or rather it would have been were the excitement not shielding him from such insignificant feelings that might distract him from the delicious mess currently pouring into his eagerly awaiting mouth. As she twitched and near convulsed from the unrestrained orgasm, she found herself drooling slightly as she emptied an alarming volume of steamy honey-like mess into his mouth. She could feel his throat move with every mouthful he swallowed, crossing her calves against his back and gasping and panting as the waves of pleasure turbulently tossed her mind and thoughts about in a sea of sexual satisfaction. With one final lurch of her back, her tail creating a sonorous clatter as it shook against the floorboards, Henry swallowed the last of her mess and seemingly the last of his strength along with it. 

  
  


At once she came plummeting down onto the seat once more, with Henry clenching and unclenching his fist as his arm pulsed with pain. It was almost enough to ruin his mood, but the tail around his neck practically dragging him up to meet his lips against hers soon remedied such an unpleasant feeling to focus on. Her lips were as pillowy and soft as ever, but it was her tongue that drove him wild. As her legs wrapped around his waist and her tail fell heavily to the floor, desperately rubbing the bulge of his trousers against her dripping cunt, her tongue delved deeply and hungrily into his mouth to savour the sweet nectar of the lust he’d caused her. Their tongues danced and lapped, with Azrielle sucking greedily on his as she moaned and whimpered with every stray twitch of his cock. Her grinding was becoming desperate, and if she kept it up he wouldn’t even have time to unbutton his trousers. Breaking the kiss, having to damn near pry her lips away from his, she stared at him with wide eyes that suddenly flashed with concern.

  
  


“ _ Hey my… well I’m hurting a bit so could we-” _ This was apparently all the man needed to say, finding his lips swiftly met by her own once more as she nodded into the kiss with a smile. Whilst Henry would have asked to stop all together, his oovatyal was not one to leave him unsatisfied, and got up from the seat as she simultaneously pushed him down onto it. He was laying down, his legs having to hang off to the side of the bench-like seat due to his height. Azrielle positioned herself above him and pressed her now bare breasts against his chest as she slowly moved down his body unbuttoning his shirt. Soon enough she came to his trousers, a bemused giggle escaping her lips as his sizable member sprung forth eagerly and stood to attention. She crawled back up his body, keeping his cock sandwiched between her thighs and hugged tight against her pussy as she began softly kissing his neck.

  
  


“ _ Let Azrielle do the work, yes? Henry must heal~” _ She cooed, a familiar almost nurturing tone to her voice that had no right being as sexually arousing as it was. As much as Henry wanted to just lie back and let her do the work, he also knew that she had a tendency to get a little carried away and quite honestly he didn’t know if he’d have the energy to stop her from accidentally injuring him should her bouncing get too rough. 

  
  


“ _ I want to taste you more, and have you use that tongue of yours on me some more. J-just for today while I-” _ She hushed him by pressing her finger to his lips, slowly and sensually licking the length of his neck and nibbling playfully at his jawline. 

  
  


“ _ Azrielle is hungry for your cream anyway~” _ She informed, something desperate and primal to her tone stirring immodest feelings within the woodcutter that only she could bring about. 

  
  


Wordlessly, she repositioned herself so that her thighs were either side of his face and her lips were against the tip of his cock with her fingers around his base. She stroked slowly and gently up and down it’s length, deliberately taking the time to tease her lover as she continually lifted her hips just a little too far for his tongue to reach. After a few tantalising strokes of his shaft, it was her that eventually caved in to desire as she found herself laid down flat against him with her tongue moving desperately up from his base to the very tip. She could taste her juices on it from her grinding, surprised at just how addicted she had quickly gotten to it’s intoxicating taste and texture. Any shame she might have had for sluttily swallowing down her own womanly syrup had long since left her as she welcomed every last drop of both her honey and Henry’s precum into her mouth. Soon enough the feeling of his head against her tongue was not enough to satisfy her desire to please, sliding his girthy length into her throat completely as her lips met his base.

  
  


Meanwhile, she has sat herself down atop his face with surprising grace given how fiercely turned on she was; once again demonstrating that her love for him always took priority over her lust. Henry greedily and eagerly returned his tongue to her cunt, thick strands of her sweet mess connecting his lips to her labia as he teased and suckled her clit. Soon enough as his sole attention was on her pleasure, his tongue moving in sensual circles about her lovebud, she was forced to another shuddering orgasm. He closed his eyes as he savoured her mess, it’s rich warmth and addictive flavour causing his cock to twitch within her throat. Something else had caught his eye however, something that the lust-clouded mind of his had trouble not pursuing.

  
  


His hands gripped her ass firmly, pulling her hard against his face. Azrielle’s eyes were closed as she whimpered and moaned albeit muffled by his meat, but they shot open the moment she felt her ass being lifted slightly and her lover shifting beneath her. He had sat himself up slightly, and for a split second Azrielle positioned her hands to push up and off of him as she assumed he must want her to stop. A firm hand on the back of her head told her otherwise however, pinning her down and encouraging her to continue massaging his cock with her throat, which she more than willingly continued to do. His tongue strayed away from her pussy however, a dissatisfied muffled whimper leaving her lips involuntarily from the lack of stimulation. Her eyes widened however the moment his teeth met her ass cheek.

  
  


Biting down hard, intending to be rough but not cause genuine pain, Azrielle’s tail twitched and her thighs squeezed him tightly. The sensation was new, and though he had bittern her neck and shoulders before, biting her in such a sensitive spot was incredibly erotic. She wanted him to be just a bit rougher, the act of being bitten itself satisfying a small cultural taboo as it was the Az’kel women that did the biting courtesy of their aphrodisiac. His tongue caressed her soft plentiful curves as he explored her rear, all the while Azrielle continued her quest to taste every last inch of her lover’s girthy member. A shudder rose up her spine and she rose sharply, the woodcutter’s cock falling messily free from her throat, as Henry’s tongue gently caressed her asshole. 

  
  


The sensation was… She moaned involuntarily, sounding much less like her usually elegant symphonies and more like a primal sultry outburst. It felt good. It was sensitive, and it was wrong, and the thoughts in her head wrestled to gain purchase as opinions and feelings all eventually succumbed to the physical pleasure the salacious act conjured within her. She knew not whether this was something Human’s did, or even other Az’kel, but it felt so wrong and yet deliciously right so she was not about to complain. Her rear twitched as the tip of his tongue pushed at her forbidden entryway, gently teasing its way inside of her ass. She gripped the cushioned seat hard, inadvertently tearing the fabric with her nails slightly as she trembled with sexual stimulation and taboo thrill. 

  
  


Whilst his partner worried about the taste, normality, or even acceptance of such a lewd and indecent act; Henry’s heart raced in his chest. This was something he’d always wanted to try, having always felt the desire to sink his teeth into particularly curvy rears whenever indecent thoughts penetrated his day-to-day life. He had heard from bar maids looking for tips and boastful drinking buddies that this was a thing women could enjoy, and judging by the obscene sounds leaving his lover’s lips he could tell Azrielle was no exception. Her ass was tight, though his lust-slick tongue overcame any resistance her otherwise taut rear might have possessed. The taste was vaguely sweet, undoubtedly owing to the nectar still clinging to his taste buds, but other than that there was nothing of particular note. It was the sensation and the exploratory nature of his actions, alongside the impassioned almost animalistic noises it prompted from the exotic woman he had the pleasure of pleasing, that provided him real enjoyment. Azrielle wanted to beg him to stop from sheer embarrassment. Surely he could not be enjoying such an act, after all? Yet with every whimper and surprised gasp that she made it seemed his tongue only pushed deeper into her rear passage. Finally mustering enough coherent thoughts together, she opened her mouth to speak. 

  
  


“ _ Deeper~” _ She practically cried, her toes curling and calves crossing behind Henry's head to quite literally pull his face in between her pillow-like ass cheeks. Henry happily obliged, though did not attempt a verbal reply given the ample muffling material now firmly pressed against his mouth. It was hot and smooth and her hole gripped and tensed around his tongue with every movement, but it allowed him to feel every last involuntary twitch of her pussy as he provided her pleasure. As her moaning and trembling increased, his craving for sweetness got the better of him and his tongue returned to her pussy and grateful began to drink down the deluge of thick nectar-like mess prompted by the anal exploration. 

  
  


Always eager to taste more of her juices, wanting to drink down as much as the slutty syrup as possible, Henry endeavoured to continue his exploration with his fingers instead. Using one hand to grip Azrielle’s hair, guiding her mouth back down to his cock which was now glistening with precum and bubbly saliva, he used the other to lube up two fingers in her deliciously tight pussy. Not wanting to hurt or deter her from further experimentation, he was sure to work slowly. Gently he teased and lubed her light caramel rear with his fingertip, gradually loosening her up and increasing the depth with which he pushed inside of her. His fingers quickly moved deeper than his tongue had managed, and if the shower of sticky nectar coating his tongue was anything to go by: the combined stimulation of her ass and vaginal walls was immensely pleasurable. 

  
  


Soon enough she was rocking her hips back against his hand, finding herself having to close her eyes and gag herself fully on his cock to stop herself from crying out from passion. One finger became two, her pinkish hole slightly gaping and twitching whenever his fingers were pulled sufficiently far out, finally stretching to accommodate a third finger with muffled noises of ecstasy. Henry by now was exceedingly close, tapping her ass gently to alert her of the imminent deposit of creamy ejaculate he was about to gift to her throat. Whether or not she noticed the warning was up to anyone’s guess, as she was a drooling watery-eyed mess by now with her head bouncing up and down trying to milk her lover’s cock of it’s delicious payload. 

  
  


His three fingers as deep as he could push them, and his tongue firmly placed within her cunt, he used his free hand to squeeze her rear fiercely as he felt his shaft twitch and that familiar sensation of warmth rise up through his member. Azrielle made further indecent noises, and now that he was hearing them again, Henry was sure that these were the very same noises she made when eating a delicious meal. She suckled gently on his tip, her long tongue lapping each and every side of his shaft to make sure she tasted and swallowed every last droplet of his masculine milk. Her ass felt strange, still stretched and twitching, and her legs felt too weak to move out from underneath Henry’s head; with Henry all too content to simply lie there using her crossed calves as a headrest while he caught his breath. He was alarmed at just how tight his chest felt and just how deeply he needed to suck air in, apparently having been neglecting adequate levels of oxygen in favour of sampling his oovatyal.

  
  


“ _ Warm enough?” _ Henry managed, prompting an exhausted giggle interspaced with similarly desperate panting to his own laboured breaths. 

__ __ __

  
  


  
  


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End file.
